To Be Found
by mrs robert crawley
Summary: Set when Cobert first marry. Robert OOC and a lot darker. Isn't a very happy story but is filled with romance, suspense and mystery. Robert's father is involved in a criminal conspiracy and Robert is hell bent on figuring it out with the help of his new wife.
1. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Disclaimer: I own nothing, zilch, nada.

A/N: **PLEASE READ! **This is my first multi-fic so I don't know when I will update next. It is very dark and unlike other DA fanfics. I have twisted characters to suit my plot and drastically changed some plot lines. There is subtle hints at rape in this chapter so be warned and Robert is darker and more bad-ass. _Italic sentences are Robert's thoughts. _That said I hope you enjoy it and please leave a review, I would love to hear what you think.

* * *

"Let me get this straight? The Great Lord Grantham has failed to do the only thing that was ever required of him and now he must destroy MY life to save both the estate AND his sorry ass!"

"Robert!"

"How dare you speak to me like that in my own home and swear in front of your mother! You were NOT raised on a farm, and God help me there will be hell to pay if you start to act like it! Now sit down, keep quiet and listen to me!"

"Forgive me father if I am somewhat angry and hesitant to hear about the plan, that will not only damn me but also an innocent girl, to a loveless and stunted marriage." Robert's cool tone of voice and easy attitude screamed sarcasm at his father while he sat down on the plush scarlet couch opposite his parents. It only served to irritate Patrick Crawley even more and he sucked in a breath to berate his son again, but unsurprisingly his wife was quicker to respond with just as much sarcasm; Robert had learned from the best after all.

"Well what marriage isn't loveless and stunted nowadays? It's almost a trend lately. Don't you want to fit in?"

"Please do not insult my intelligence by comparing me to those witless sheep that populate your balls every month Mother."

"Well, since you said please. Praise God you seemed to have regained both your vast vocabulary and your manners; I was afraid I would have to start sending you down to the servants to keep out of sight at the monthly gathering of my sheep." Violet raised her eyebrow in a silent challenge to her son and changed her tone from playful to serious. "Now, have you finished your tantrum? Good, your father made a mistake, Robert it happens; life moves on. It moves on with the next generation which happens to be you at present time. Downton needs you. You can sit there ranting and raving about how your father hurt you, or you can go out and win an heiress to save our home."

Robert sighed slowly, his calm façade dropping when he realised the magnitude of the state that Downton was in and the life-changing choice he was going to have to make. His shoulders suddenly felt heavy with every request his parents had ever made of him for the good of 'our home'. But to Robert this wide and half empty castle was not a home; it was a rusty cage wrapped in the finest silk that was slowly suffocating the life out of him. Every stiff and emotionless conversation was another tug on the rope around his throat. Even now, his heart will have to be sacrificed to maintain the jail that crushed him.

"I can see that your decision has been made. I have no choice. But then again, did I ever?" He rose from the couch before his mother could reply and walked out of the library hearing his father whisper the word 'finally'.

* * *

**Three weeks later, Lord Rookwood's Ball.**

"Well, brother dear have you seen anyone you like?"

"Honestly Rosamund, you sound as if we're shopping for a horse rather than my future wife." Robert snapped at his younger sister and grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest footman, while looking out over the crowd of people assembled in Lord Rookwood's ballroom. Bright, vibrant colours of Ladies dresses blurred his vision stirring the beginning of a headache.

"Well from what I hear there isn't much difference now is there? When you won't be riding her, she'll only be there for show and affect." Robert gasped at her insinuation and the alcohol he drank earlier went down the wrong way causing him to splutter and cough. Rosamund hid her smirk behind her dance card and strolled off to find her next partner before her brother recovered.

The young Lord put the glass down on the window sill he was next to and ran onto the balcony so he wouldn't cause a scene while trying to breathe again. His mother always said that causing a scene at a ball was the height of indecency and that he would be 'down with the servants', if she ever heard gossip about him making scenes from her friends. God forbid the Grantham's to actually be gossiped about. He grabbed the stone banister and took deliberate slow, raspy breathes while looking out on the moonlit gardens.

"Are you alright?"

The strange feminine voice startled him and he pivoted to his right to face the woman who had walked in on his embarrassment, who was offering up a white satin handkerchief with her pale arm extended out to him. Robert's brow furrowed as he looked at the fabric her hands and followed the path of her skin slowly. Light blue sleeves draped over her arms and at the base her neck was a cascading shower of ebony curls that tempted Robert to wind around his finger, only to see if it would bounce back again when released. Her lips were a pale red but not quite pink as she was biting her bottom lip somewhat nervously, and her eyes. A hiss escaped the young man as he looked into the stranger's eyes, if they could even be called that. To Robert they looked like shining sapphires filled with the ocean and invited him to dive straight into her very soul, the moon was reflecting back on their glossy surface and for a while he could not speak. This woman with the strange voice was by far the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

"You have champagne on your chin, are you alright?" She asked again seemingly concerned by his immobility and shook the handkerchief at him again.

"Oh, right yes. Yes I'm fine, thank you." The young lord tried to hide his blush by wiping his face with the proffered item which he tried not to notice smelled like jasmine and tea, although he couldn't seem to stop looking into her eyes. He suddenly realised that they were quite alone on the balcony and searched his mind for something to say.

"Do you not have an escort?" _Oh yes Robert, that's great; open the conversation with talk of her suitors. Stupid!_

"Yes my brother is inside the card room with the other men and my mother is dancing at the moment. I was feeling a bit hot so I came outside and found you."

"Found me?" The way this girl spoke was incredible, so open and giving with information and the _way_ she said it. She _found_ him. Oh God, she was the first person to realise that he was even lost. _Get a grip on yourself man and stop staring at her like daft ninny._

"Are you not afraid to be alone with a strange man at night?"

"Should I be? I wasn't under the impression you were all that strange to be honest."

"No, you shouldn't be; I promise to be a perfect gentleman." His brow furrowed further as he looked at her face, "I was under the impression that to be honest was frowned upon nowadays." She looked slightly offended by his statement and raised her head in defiance.

"It seems that your impression of behaving like a gentleman is also incorrect as I personally never classed sarcasm under chivalry." She crossed her arms and averted her gaze away from him, twisting her body to face towards the garden.

"Please, you misunderstand me. That wasn't sarcasm it was curiosity; no-one I've ever met before has been... _honest _with me. But you're right; I'm not behaving like a gentleman, allow me to introduce myself, Viscount Downton, at your service." He gave a stiff bow as was customary even though it was directed at her side and then joined her to look out over the moonlit landscape.

"Cora Levinson. Pleasure to meet you, m'Lord." She whispered but still avoided his eyes.

"I can assure you Miss Levinson, the pleasure is all mine. You're visiting England?" Robert was impressed that she knew the proper form of address, he didn't recognise her name or accent but was fairly sure she wasn't from Britain.

"Yes."

"And what do you think of it so far?"

"Well, it's different. Back home in America even at the formal get togethers it wasn't so..." She trailed off searching for the right word. _Ahh, American. An heiress perhaps? Come on Robert help her out ol' boy you know exactly what word she needs._

"Suffocating?"

"I was going to say different but yes, suffocating is an appropriate substitute for how I would describe English conversation. I don't mean to be insulting but every conversation is spoken in the same clipped tone, the same words are used, the same pinched face when talking to me. They just remind me of... well, sheep. No-one I've met yet has anything to say to me that I haven't heard before"

"Indeed. I myself find mindless bleating rather annoying, I've learned to treat it as white noise." He gave her a small smile after she snorted with amusement in a rather unladylike manner. "So how long will you be staying In England?"

"Oh, that depends who you ask really. According to mother we're staying as long as it takes but if my brother had his way we'd be gone by tomorrow."

_Definitely an heiress. Interesting. _"What about you? How long would you stay?" He smiled inwardly as she looked at him with curious surprise.

"Me? I would, I don't know. The end of the Season perhaps. But it's not up to me."

"Don't you have a choice?"

"Oh, no, I do. As long as I choose what mother chooses. She's rather a force to be reckoned with."

"Indeed, well I know what that's like." _I wonder if her mother is shipping her of to buy a title just as my mother is selling me to the highest bidder. Well, well, well, great minds do think alike after all. _

"Hmm, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"My, my Lord Downton, I hate to disappoint you but snarkiness is also a quality that gentlemen are supposed to lack."

"My sincerest apologies Miss Levinson. As a gift you may ask a second question." He smirked at her while she glared and obviously bit her tongue to keep herself from insulting him.

"Why was a Viscount hunched over his host's balcony with alcohol all over his face?" It was Cora's turn to smirk as he narrowed his eyes at her for exaggerating the condition he was found in.

"My sister pulled a horribly ugly face and my champagne went down the wrong way so I came out here to recover, to find a beautiful woman waiting for me."

"Flattery will get you nowhere m'Lord. I suggest flowers; carnations are my favourite but I wouldn't say no to roses either."

"Well look at who's so familiar with a lowly sheep." He noticed her shiver while they laughed, "speaking of sheep, I would hate to keep you from all the rams waiting to dance with you."

"I'm not much of a dancer but I did a few turns with Lord Rookwood and his cousin, Mr Painswick I believe. But I doubt anyone is desperate for me to rejoin the frivolity."

"I don't believe that for a second Miss Levinson you just need the right partner. It would be my pleasure to have this dance with you seeing as there aren't any carnations around and I would never force you to settle for a rose."

"Oh, um, alright then." She made eye contact with him as he clasped her small cold hand in his large one and led her into the warm ballroom just as a waltz was coming on. Placing his other hand on her waist he put a respectable ammount of distance between their bodies as much as he was loathe to do it.

"I hope I've earned a few more points than Rookwood."

"Well he was never sarcastic but yes, you've earned far more points than anyone tonight."

"You didn't like our host?"

"He was... strangely distant while being overly familiar at the same time, if that makes a lick of sense."

"He didn't do anything forward did he?"

"No, he just. No he didn't."

Robert wanted to tell her that she could tell him if Rookwood did do anything. That he would take care of it, take care of her. But then reality crashed and he realised that maybe if he did something like that then he would be being forward. Everything about their conversation tonight was far too forward; too fast, but at the same time not being fast enough. It was then that the idea struck him. Mid way through a lucid waltz amid the rest of the flock. An idea that he could grow to love, that would save Downton, that his mother would hate, an absolutely ingenious idea.

_Why hello Miss Levinson. _

The only outwards sign of Robert's inner thought's was his hand slowly tightening around his partner's waist.

* * *

**Three months later, Grantham House.**

"But she is an American! A commoner hunting for a title! I won't allow it, you may NOT marry her Robert!"

"It's too late Mama. Papa already gave his blessing and has met Cora. The ring is bought and I will ask her to marry me tomorrow, and you can sit there ranting and raving about an American being the next Lady Grantham or can support me in my decision to save our home."

His mother glared at him for a while before getting up and retiring to her room leaving Robert and his father in the drawing-room alone.

"She'll come around son, Cora is a beautiful young woman who will make a fine Countess."

"There is more to being a Countess than looks Papa. She is neither a horse nor a sheep which is why I will marry her."

"I agree son she's more of a lamb, isn't she? Innocent, young and free." Lord Grantham had a dangerous glint in his eyes while sipping on his brandy and winking at Robert, "but not for long, eh?"

One minute his father was sitting on the couch licking his lips, the next he was on the floor with his only son's fingers wrapped around his throat and the abandoned glass rolling on the rug. Robert's weight pressed on the old man's abdomen cutting off his breathing effectively and asserting his dominance over the fool.

"Don't you ever speak of my future wife like that again. Ever!" After Patrick half nodded half gurgled his answer, the young Lord shoved his body away from him and sat back on his heels, watching his father grab at his throat trying to massage the aggravated muscles.

"Where did you learn to move that fast?"

Robert contemplated telling him but decided against it; it wouldn't be good for anyone involved to discover what Robert was truly capable of. "Let's just say that there's a lot you don't know about me. There's also a lot I don't know about you _Lord Grantham _but I promise you that I will figure it out. I will find out exactly what 'mistake' caused you to lose Downton and you better pray to God that it was a legal one. Because if I find out that you were involved in anything underhand and dragged this family into it, let's just say that even God wouldn't be able to help you there."

He stood and straightened his white waistcoat while his father's face drained of colour, and strode out of the room leaving a terrified Lord and a rolling brandy glass in his wake.

* * *

**Three days later, Hyde Park.**

"Don't worry, Cora; Mama will come around and see you the way I do. It will just take a bit of time for her to get used to it. She just isn't overly fond of change." Robert touched her glove clad hand that was trapped in the crook of his elbow, trying to comfort his fiancée while they walked around the fountain.

"I know that and I am looking forward to the day when she will able to see past the 'unbearable accent' but I'm a little confused at the moment Robert. Not only concerning your mother and proper English etiquette but also us. You have admitted to being a fortune hunter but that is all. Then you confuse my feelings by saying things like that. How exactly do you see me Robert?" Her voice sounded almost strained to his ears and he sighed deeply before leading her to sit at a bench a few feet away taking her hand in both of his.

"There's something you should probably know before everything becomes public and the dates are set. I never wanted this Cora, my parents left me no choice in the matter and I had to marry an heiress to save Downton. My biggest fear was that I would be saddled with a wife that couldn't hold an interesting conversation or make up her own mind, but with you I'm interested. This will sound cliché but I told you before that I treat the rest of the flock like white noise. But with you; I can hear you Cora and I like what I hear, I like what I see. I don't know now if I will ever love you but I can sense an opportunity for love and I want to take it. I want this chance that I have with you. I want to marry you."

"Oh, Robert I want to marry you as well. With the boys back home they were just that; boys. But you, you're a man. You're mysterious and secretive and you confuse me to no end. Most of all you actually talk to me like my opinion matters to you and that means much more to me than sentiments of the heart."

"I'm glad you feel that way but, there's more. I don't know how Papa lost all our money but I intend to find out and it might get... messy. I'm not an average Viscount, Cora, as you have pointed out I have secrets. Eventually I will tell you about my... extracurricular activities but not today. What you need to know is that I'm not exactly _normal_ in private life, I'm not what you would call a gentle man and my father is far far worse. He's up to something and I'm going to find out what it is but I don't want you to be afraid, I will always protect you. I just thought you needed to be aware that something is going on and all the dirty laundry will most likely be revealed when we are well and truly married." His face was a stony mask as he waited for her response with bated breath.

"I don't want normal or gentle, I want passion and excitement and _you. _I don't care what your father has done or what you like to do in your spare time as long as you stay faithful and talk to me. I want to be kept in the loop and I want you to be able to tell anything and everything. Everyone goes down the aisle with half the story hidden Robert, I don't care about the plot twists, only the main character." She smiled at him then and the world seemed a little less bleak for a moment, like someone had lifted up the silk cover of his cage and the world was beautiful beyond the bars of his prison. She would probably never understand what it meant for him to have someone that would be by his side without wanting anything in return. In that moment it was only them in the whole world, only blue siren singing eyes and a delectable lower lip that was currently trapped between white teeth. He wondered briefly if she would ever let him bite it someday but until then he would have to make do with a kiss.

His head lowered to hers in almost slow motion and captured her full lips with his own. It was simple and short yet demanding and strong at the same time. His thin lips demanded her every attention while his large hand palmed the side of her face with an urgency she had never felt before. His lips were warm, moist and tasted of spearmint and tobacco, Cora could have stayed like that with him forever but unfortunately prolonged displays of affection was generally frowned upon in public; it wasn't long before he slowly pulled back but left his hand where it was.

"I'm afraid I'm a bad influence on you Miss Levinson." He breathed out in a husky voice she had never heard him use before.

"That's quite alright, I find myself rather partial to trying new things with you, even if they are frowned upon." His response was to smile at her and ask how the wedding plans were coming along.

* * *

**Three weeks later, Downton Abbey. **

"I think I shall retire brother dearest, as should you. One only gets one wedding night Robert and all the guests are gone apart from the man Papa is in the library with."

"I think I'll just finish my port and go up then, goodnight Rosamund." Robert waited until his sister was upstairs until making his way to door that connected the library with the drawing-room and straining his ears to listen to the fragments of conversation coming from the room.

"It's only one night, Grantham and it's not as if you have a choice. After this I promise to leave you and your family alone."

"Like I could ever trust your word! First you take my entire fortune, my dignity and now you want to sleep in my bed!"

"If the problem is that you need a bed then I now someone who be more than accommodating - "

"NO! I don't want anymore of your _services _Rookwood. Fine; your man can stay in the club but only one night mind you and that's it! I don't want to hear from you again; leave Robert and I alone. If you have a problem in the future sort it out by yourself I don't want to be involved." Robert could hear his father pacing and wondered what Rookwood could possibly have over him. _Should have known it was Rookwood; he was acting very strange the whole night. _

"Whether you like it or not Patrick you are well and truly involved. I should take my leave. You'll thank your beautiful wife for her hospitality won't you? I'd hate to be rude."

"You are the worst kind of scum Rookwood! Don't you dare go near my wife!"

"Yes, I believe you're right. I do prefer them younger after all."

Robert couldn't believe what he was hearing and stayed leaning against the door long after they were both gone, He push away from the door frame with one thought in his head. _I need to speak to Carson, but first, my wife is waiting for me. _Despite the disturbing conversation he had just overheard the thought of Cora upstairs waiting for him seemed to melt all other thoughts like chocolate in the sun.


	2. Moments that Define Us

Life is made up of a series of moments for every person. Particular seconds that humans instantly think of when asked the question, 'what did you do with your life?' A mother teaching her daughter to sew, a man labouring in the fields or over a desk; everyone has their moments and not one moment is the same. These are the moments that define us and as Robert sat down to breakfast with Rosamund, Mr Levinson and his father the day after his wedding, he couldn't help but think that his defining moment had occurred last night, in the arms of his wife. But he was wrong.

**8 hours earlier.**

_Wow, I never knew my door had that stain before. What is it? Ah, yes, a blemish in the otherwise perfect wood, just a mistake, not a stain. Huh. Why am I here again? You're too chicken to knock, remember? I'm not chicken, I just don't know what to do in this situation do I knock or just walk straight in, and do I keep my dressing gown on? God, this is so much easier when it's not planned! Well talking to yourself is never a good sign ol' boy. Thank you for that astute observation. This is so awkward and she is obviously a virgin so only God knows how she's feeling. Just knock!_

"Um, Cora? Are y - oh." Robert sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth before moving towards his wife. Her hair was down. That was it, she was standing in the middle of her room with a dressing gown on and her hair down. Even the girls he had been with before had kept their hair in a tight braid and frankly he had never thought about it before. But by Christ he'll be thinking of it now! It had never occurred to him how vulnerable and open a woman would look with their hair down even if said woman was still clothed.

"Robert, are you alright?" She looked slightly amused and he immediately trained his face into an unreadable mask. Harsh, but necessary.

"I'm fine. Will you sit with me? I'd like to talk to you about something."

"Oh, of course." She sat down on a settee while he chose a large armchair opposite her and tried to erase his voice of lust.

"You once told me that you wanted me to be able to talk to you about anything and everything, I just wanted you to know the same goes for you. I want you to talk to me about anything you want to even if you believe that it might be somewhat embarrassing. What happens in our bedroom will stay there and I want us to be able to talk about what goes on behind closed doors together. If the need arises I want us to be able to clear the air without any awkwardness." He finally looked up to see Cora's shocked face in response to his brash and risqué conversation topic.

"Oh, I. Well, yes, I agree, no awkwardness."

"Exactly. I Think you'll find as you get to know me that I am a lot more open about sex than an average Englishman. Personally, I've never understood why it is always such a forbidden topic even if everyone does it behind closed doors. I apologise if you find this shocking."

"No, no it's fine. I'd prefer that actually, I'm just surprised and well, in the spirit of being open; I've never done this before and I don't know much about..."

"Sex, Cora. Making love, the beast with two backs. You might as well say the word; we'll be doing it in a minute." His brow furrowed when she flinched noticeably at him saying they will be having sex. Robert couldn't understand why she would have a violent reaction to the thought of them being intimate finally. _Didn't she want to? GOD knows I want to but what if she doesn't desire a physical relationship?_

"I'm sorry if I'm being too familiar, I just thought -"

"No, it's not that, it's..."

"Yes?"

He watched silently as she heaved a great sign looked determinedly at the floor when answering in barely a whisper. "I've heard it hurts."

"Oh. OH... I see. Well, I will endeavor to make this as pleasurable a experience as possible for you. I don't want our coupling to be seen as a duty."

The young Lord leaned back into the plush fabric as he surveyed his new wife through narrowed eyes. "You're still nervous?"

"Well, that is generally the emotion one feels when one is going be in pain."

"Hmm." Her answer was snappy, almost as if she was lashing out, like they were... fighting. He extended his hand out to her while remaining seated himself, "come here." His voice was low and hypnotic to her, it made her feel strange in a way that she didn't entirely understand. Before she realised what exactly she was doing, Cora was standing before him with her left hand clasped in his. He pulled gently and she let out a squeak as she fell into his lap facing her vanity, away from the bed, and grabbed his shoulder for balance. His large right hand gained around her waist and she felt distinctly uncomfortable as his baby blue eyes seemingly pierced her own.

"Now then," he still spoke in that low sultry tone which tempted her to squirm upon his lap like a dog in heat. "I will never lie to you or sugar coat anything for you Cora, you have a right to know everything that I do. Which is why I don't want you to be embarrassed or shy away during this conversation, I want you to maintain eye contact at all times. "Do you understand?"

Did he even know what using that tone in a demanding voice did to her?

Probably.

Her throat was dry and shivers we're coursing through her legs from where his thumb was lightly rubbing on her waist. All she could do was nod in the affirmative. Cora knew in that moment that her husband was dangerous, he could ask her for anything and she would gladly oblige in every way possible. But somehow she knew, she just knew, that he would never be a danger to her. He would never ask her to do anything she didn't want to. He was a master manipulator but would never string her up to be his puppet, she just knew.

"Good. Now listen carefully; two things that I am absolutely positive about is: one, you are a virgin so yes it hurt the first time you and I are intimate but only the first, after that it will get easier and soon you won't feel any pain. Two, by the time we do get into bed pain will be the last thing on your mind. I PROMISE you that you will feel pleasure tonight Cora."

His eyes were looking at her so intently as he promised to cherish her, to keep her safe. Cora knew she loved him before then but why she did so became apparent as he cradled her and softly soothed her nerves. She bent down and kissed his lips lightly before pulling back again. "I'm sorry that I'm so nervous."

"Never apologise for something completely out of your control. In fact I have an idea that might help you to completely block out everything but pleasure. By taking away one of your senses, all other senses will be heightened and the pain will become a brief shadow of tension at the back of your mind." Robert but his lip, wondering if Cora caught on to what he was getting at. If she didn't want to do it then he wouldn't care but it was something he thought might take some pressure from her.

"I don't understand. How could you take away one of my senses?" Her husband smiled and cupped her face slowly, wondering briefly how innocent and naïve of the world his new wife was. He brought her lips to meet his gently, they were warm and soft and so cruelly addictive to him. Her breath held all the forbidden qualities of a fictional love potion, intoxicating him as he greedily drank from her lips. When her tongue reached tentatively into his mouth to reciprocate he reveled in the soft velvet that was now exploring his own, but before things became too heated he gently pulled back a hairs breadth. She was panting heavily blowing that sweet, sweet breath over his face before he leaned as close to her lips as possible without touching them.

"With a blindfold, of course."

It was obvious that she had forgotten her question throughout their kiss but the sudden realisation at what he was suggesting brought her back down to earth with a gasp; unconsciously making their lips meet again.

He wanted her to wear a blindfold? How did he even come up with such an idea? Cora wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answer to that question and started to think logically about his request. She knew that Robert would never make her do anything she didn't want to do and if he thought that this would help her overcome her fear, than shouldn't she trust him? Her new husband was obviously experienced in this area so wouldn't he naturally know what would be better? While she was mulling over the pros and cons consciously she realised that Robert was still plucking methodically at her lips. Each gentle pull toward him invoked strange and new feelings deep within the young woman's stomach, she could not a name on the feeling but it felt like it was gradually building. The combined feeling of his wicked mouth and wandering hands on her side was doing nothing to quench the unknown feeling and as his thumb brushed the side of her breast, the feeling seemed to shoot straight down to in between her legs. He took her gasp as permission to carry on, fully grasping her soft breast in his large palm while kissing her fiercely. The feeling in Cora suddenly became unbearable, like a foreign pulse demanding her attention, and she clenched her thighs together in an effort to stop. The movement made a gust of air bring an even stranger smell to her nose and Robert abruptly broke the kiss, inhaling deeply. His eyes fluttered closed and she felt something hard and large poking her behind on his lap, when she squirmed in discomfort, it seemed to get even larger and her brow furrowed in confusion. She looked up to find Robert looking at her again with darker eyes than before.

"You are so beautiful to me, Cora, so pure." His voice was low and sultry again, he wasn't talking to her; he was purring at her which was not giving the feeling inside her any hope of going away anytime soon. His hand stayed gently grinding against her chest and suddenly, her decision didn't seem all that hard to make.

"Get the blindfold, Robert." She was alarmed to note that her voice had also dropped a few octaves but chalked it up to arousal and slid off of his lap to let him get up. His eyes were trained on her every move as he stood up from the armchair and disappeared into his dressing room, walking in uncomfortable manner. Her arousal seemed to go with him and she was back to being nervous again, but thankfully he wasn't gone for long.

"Turn around." His voice was husky but firm and it seemed like a command to Cora, but she would follow this man into hell if he used that voice when asking and she turned around obediently.

"Good girl." His voice was closer even though she didn't hear him move around the room. Soft, black fabric covered her eyes and in the next few seconds Robert was placing gentle kisses to the back of Cora's neck and shoulders. He swept her hair to one side, ghosting the tips of his fingers across her porcelain skin.

"Relax and breathe. I'm going to take off your night dress now." In Cora's next breath, her husband was after swiping his hands down her shoulders, bringing the white sleeves with him; only to bunch in a heap at her wrists. She tried to resist the temptation to cover her chest but took solace from the fact that Robert's solid form was still behind her and gently slipping her hands out of the bothersome fabric. He spread his palms over her stomach and hips while the nightgown floated to the floor with no sound, forgotten and as insignificant as the first drop of rain before a flood.

He suddenly gripped her waist and pulled her body flush back against his own and she was startled to realise that he wasn't wearing a shirt any longer. But all thoughts of clothing were chased from Cora's mind by Robert's tongue sweeping along the delicate skin of her throat and occasionally biting the skin behind her ear. Skin that she never thought twice about in her whole life that suddenly seemed to ignite a fiery path of pure light straight to her core. Every nip, lick and suck pulsed flames on that very path and all thoughts of nakedness, insecurity and embarrassment were replaced with Robert, just Robert.

The usually stoic young lord let out a groan when his wife's hand clutched the back of his neck and dragged his head closer to her heated skin. Robert's right hand quested up from her side to her left breast and cupped it firmly, while his left strayed down to the patch of soft curls between her thighs, never stopping his attentions to her neck. He smirked as she whimpered in reception to his wandering fingers that were teasing and tracing her skin that no-one had ever seen or touched before him.

'Relax and breathe' flew right out of the window the minute his fingers started to trace along her folds. Cora didn't understand why she was acting like she was but she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed something. She needed something deep within her so badly that it was starting to ache and somehow, she knew that only Robert could give it to her.

"Please."

The whisper escaped her lips without her consent; she didn't even know what she asking for. But that question was answered as soon as his finger slipped completely into her. If Cora thought that his kisses had created a path of flames, then his hands had created a full-blown inferno that was raging inside of her. Her mouth opened and closed mindlessly as her head lolled back onto his shoulder, a hard prodding behind her back became prominent and her toes clenched painfully but every feeling was blackness compared to the colorful fireworks sprouting from between her legs. The pressure built and built until the undeniable tension in her became an unsteady tower and promptly toppled to the ground as the heel of his palm pressed back onto her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Robert retracted his hands and enveloped her in his arms as she recovered from her climax, gasping and boneless. He scooped her into his arms with frightening ease and placed her on the lavish bed only to climb atop of her and attack her lips before she could properly get her bearings. She was so responsive and beautiful that he just seemed to have no grip on his self-control when he was around her and now it was too far out of his reach for him to care. Everything he saw, smelt and heard was, Cora. And he had absolutely no problem with that.

Tongues battled for dominance before dancing with grace and silently coaxing within the couples intertwined mouths. Robert slipped out of his pyjama bottoms without breaking skin contact and relished in the feeling of his wife's hands on his chest, before she roughly grabbed his back and pulled him down onto her, inadvertently pushing her slick sex against his own. He gasped at the feeling and tore his mouth away from her to stare at her face. Her cheeks were flushed and lips bruised while she gulped in air. The black blindfold was still on tight and held an erotic contrast to her sweaty, scarlet face. Her legs seemed to cage him within her thighs of their own accord and the silky smooth skin called to him like a siren.

"Are you ready?"

His was so low and raspy it sounded metallic but she appeared to like that and moaned impatiently in reply. Robert forced himself to slow down before guiding himself to her sleek entrance and thrusted gently into her. She gasped loudly and took hold of his broad shoulders while breathing deeply. She forgot all about the pain after he had kissed her neck but just got a surprising reminder. Even more surprising was the fact that the sharp pain was slowly ebbing away to a light throb.

"Cora?" She could feel his large hand hold the side of her face while his thumb trailed across her bottom lip carelessly. "I'm okay, just, go slow?" He quickly kissed her and rhythmically stroked the side of her face, "anything."

He slowly pulled out while still rubbing her cheekbone gently and occasionally bending to place chaste kisses on her lips and face, before pushing back into her at the same agonising speed. Robert hissed as her clenched around his length and pulsed with criminal passion. Eventually her hips started to rise and fall to meet him halfway, inviting him to go faster. An invitation which he did not hesitate to accept. He removed his hand from her face and placed it on the mattress for leverage while moving faster and harder inside of her, Cora meeting him thrust for thrust and finally wrapping her legs around his waist, forcing him to go deeper. Robert would never forget the first time his wife came to completion under him; the way her hands grabbed wildly, the way her throat muscles contracted as she arched into him, the way that her mouth open and closed taking in brief, quiet gasps of air before stilling completely and groaning in ecstasy. As her walls clenched and spasmed he pushed once more before letting go himself and coming with her name on his lips like a dying man's final prayer.

"Cora."

* * *

"We should get dressed." Cora sighed from her position on Robert's chest, never stopping in rubbing the fine black hair scattered there. He twirled a curl around his forefinger and hummed in agreement, neither of them making a move to get out of bed.

"Your mother's maid would have a heart attack to come in and find our clothing on the floor with a blind fold."

"Never liked her anyway so I say good riddance." Cora muffled her laugh and breathed in the scent of her lover's chest but a sudden thought broke her calm disposition and she tore away from him.

"But, don't you have to go anyway?" She pulled the crisp white up to cover her exposed chest and bit her lip. Robert opened his eyes and stared at her with a blank face before answering slowly, "do you wish me to go?"

"No."

"Then I won't." He closed his eyes again and lay back down with his arm thrown to one side, inviting her back to her position cuddling his side.

Cora narrowed her eyes and tentatively put her head on is shoulder, "but isn't that terribly improper?"

Robert sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before turning on his side and looking her in the eye. "Cora, there's something you need to understand. I want a real, serious relationship with you, not some ham-handed half excuse of marriage that crumbles every time the curtain is closed. If you want me to stay with you during the night, every night for the rest of this marriage then I don't care about whats proper and what isn't. The king himself could frown upon it and I wouldn't care, if I want to sleep with my wife, and I assure you I do, then I will."

"You really care about me, don't you?"

Robert realised then that this was one of those moments that could make or break a man. He could lie and cover up his rapidly growing feelings like every other man in England. He could return to his dressing room and not give a damn whether or not she wanted his presence. He could demand access to her bed without any thought to her own pleasure or safety. Or he could tell her truth. _I won't be that cruel man. I am not my Patrick Crawley. _

"I care about you a lot more than I probably should."

* * *

"Have you any plans for the day Robert?" Mr Levinson's question snapped Robert out of his musings about the night before and back to breakfast.

"Eh, no, Sir, not yet. I was going to ask Cora if she would like a tour of the grounds but unless the skies clear then that won't be possible."

"It might interest you to know that my little girl has a fascination with art. Perhaps a tour of Downton's paintings might score some points." Rosamund laughed at the man's wink and American phrase but the young Lord was deep in thought. _Would she really like that? _

Movement drew Robert's attention to the footman that was fixing his right-hand glove by the window. He made brief eye-contact with the newly wed before picking up a tray and walking out of the room.

"Thank you, Sir. I'll ask her right away." He didn't wait for a reply before standing up and following Carson under the guise of seeing his wife.

The walk to his dressing room but the need to not gain any suspicion out-weighed the need to talk; albeit only marginally. Carson was waiting for him in the middle of the room carrying a pair of shoes and standing stiffly.

"Was there something you needed Charles?" Robert asked ass he closed the door and locked it, seeing that Carson had already locked the connecting door to Cora's room.

Carson put the shoes on the floor before slightly smiling and grasping the younger man's hand in a friendly shake. "You're getting better at noticing the signal."

"Yes, as infuriatingly subtle as it is, I do feel I'm getting the hang of it. But there's something I need to tell you and I don't have much time, they'll be looking for you to do something soon."

"Could it not wait until Friday?"

"No, I needed to bring you up to speed with the situation concerning my father. I think Lord Rookwood is a player in this game, as well as someone else but I didn't catch his name. He's holding something over Papa, something big enough to blackmail him, but I don't know what. I did find out that that's why our money is all gone, he must have given Rookwood everything. I don't know what's going on or what to do next."

"We'll talk more on Friday but from what I understand; paying someone off leaves a paper trail more often than not. The one thing that your father is notoriously god at is record keeping. If he gave any swag at all to Rookwood then I'd bet my right arm that he noted the sum somewhere." Carson looked at Robert and waited for him to catch on.

"Wouldn't his desk in the library be a bad place to keep sensitive documents?"

"I know that and you know that, but does Lord Grantham now that? Think Robert, the only thing he has is Downton, he's not going to think that anyone withing thee walls would ant those papers. Hell, he doesn't even know that you know about them! Where else would they be?"

Robert sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll try to find something in his desk but I want you to keep you eyes and ears open."

"They always are, _Lord Downton._"

Robert shook his head and smiled at the title, "ha-ha, very funny. You'd better go but I'll see you on Friday and be prepared old man; I've been practicing."

Carson sneered as moved towards the door, "of course you have."

* * *

"Can you tell me where Lord Grantham is Evans?"

"Of course Lord Downton, he' in the parlour with Mr Levinson playing cards."

"Thank you, that is all." Robert waited until his butler's footsteps faded away ad ran over to his father's desk four feet away. Privacy was hard to come by at Downton so he would have to be first the search proved fruitless, until a small piece of paper fell off the desk and Robert bent to pick it up. It was a receipt for a club London. _Fine; your man can stay in the club but only one night mind you and that's it! _

His father's words echoed through his mind and he examined the paper more carefully. One night in the Grantham suite and four drinks at the bar, totaled up to twenty pounds for... Robert couldn't see a name anywhere but there were two letters at the end of the tiny slip. Initials. Finally, a lead, not as good as a name but still a lead. He placed the tiny slip back where it was and memorised the letters; 'S.B.'

* * *

A/N: Than you sooo much to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed. And thanks to those people who read it but nothing else even though they anxiously waited for the second chapter. Oh, well, even so, you go Glen Coco! I'm so sorry this took so long to update but I broke my laptop and only got a new one yesterday so I've been writing all weekend. I tried to make it up to ye by writing a long chapter with lots of smut! Please review if you like it! (Can you guess who SB is?) Oh, and one last thing... HAPPY DOWNTON DAY! XXXXXXXXX


	3. Murder and A Show

"S.B?" Carson asked after Robert filled him in on the receipt he found in the library and removed his shoes.

"That's what it said. I think they're initials but there's no-one with those in Burke's and I don't know where else to look for a name. Maybe London, if I tell Murray that I'm trying to find a friend's cousin he might help... but the risk of him letting something slip to Papa is too great and I'm not prepared to take that chance."

"Don't worry, we'll think of something. But enough of business, tell me of your marriage! I haven't had the chance to congratulate you yet. How is our new Lady Downton fitting in?"

Robert smiled and removed his jacket and shoes, starting to stretch. "She's doing brilliantly. Mama isn't helping by giving both of us the silent treatment but it's better than her constantly putting Cora down. I'm two days married and I've already lied to her, you know? I told her that she should spend some time with her parents before they leave on Monday so I could come here. I know I can't tell her about our friendship, but a part of me feels so guilty when she keeps thanking me for 'always thinking of her' and she wants to know what's been bothering me lately. She knows bits of what my father has done but not all, I haven't told her about Rookwood or S.B. But other than the whole cloak and dagger side to it; married is life is fantastic and I would highly recommend it."

Carson ignored the young Lord's wagging eyebrows and replied in a serious tone, "you can't tell her bits and pieces Robert, it's all or nothing with these kind of things. Eventually she'll ask where you go and what you do and suddenly you'll be drowning in all the lies. You don't need to protect her from the 'bad men' she's a big girl now; after all, she married you didn't she?"

"Well, someone's feeling especially witty today, aren't they? Fine, if she asks me again then I'll tell her, now can we please start?"

"Well, since you said please... m'Lord." Without warning, Carson's right fist flew straight for Robert's nose but he caught it just in time, moving out-of-the-way and punching Carson's exposed right flank. Charles retaliated by weakly elbowing his employers nose but Robert ducked and rolled away from any further attack.

"You're lucky that wasn't hard, or it would have been difficult to explain why my nose was broken to my wife."

Carson ignored the comment and caught Robert's leg mid-kick, twisting it and showing the young Lord that no matter how much practice he gets in; he could never beat a man who grew up on the stage.

* * *

"I wish you'd tell me what's bothering you,"

"I told you, it's nothing." Robert's body and pride were sore after his beating from Carson before dinner, all he wanted was to stretch and have a soak but how could he explain that to Cora? She would wonder about his valet's absence, about why he was doing peculiar exercises, about everything and anything. It was strange having someone in his life that genuinely worried for him and cared for him. On one hand it was a pleasant feeling but on the other it all just served to make him even more stressed.

"Why are you lying to me?"

At first Robert wanted to shout indignantly with anger and storm out of bed, so he opened his mouth to do just that, but one look at her crushed face made him realise that what Carson had said was true. Cora was not a child and can handle the truth, but feeding her tidbits will not be enough; it's all or nothing. Tears balanced precariously on her lids and her brow furrowed at the thought that he would intentionally keep something from her. This young woman cared for him deeply and he was hurting her.

"Oh, Cora." Robert dropped his book and reached over to wipe her tears away, "I'm sorry that I'm keeping things from you and don't really have a fair reason for doing it but I hope you can forgive me."

She let out a deep breath through her nose and looked at him with a new resilience in her eyes, "if you're sorry then tell me! Are you having an affair?"

Robert grabbed her face and kissed her gently before whispering across her lips, "it's my father. I think I'm close to finding out about why he lost the money and I didn't want to worry you. But I've hit a brick wall recently and I'm thinking of a way around it which is why I've been so distracted lately." He kissed her again with a bit more force, "I am _not _having an affair. We've been married for two days and I could not be any happier with how close we've become or how easily we fit together."

"Show me." Cora reached up and dragged his face closer to her own, "show me how happy you are with me." When their lips met for a third time the young woman wasted no time in pushing her tongue into his mouth, with a desperation that only love-starved women could possibly understand. She wanted to be reminded that he still thought of her as desirable, that he would always come back to her bed at the end of every day. She wanted to have control over something in her otherwise chaotic life. Her parents were leaving in two days, her mother in law avoided her like the plague and her husband was keeping secrets from her after being wed for only 48 hours. All of these emotions were bubbling inside of her, screaming to get out, to do something with all of the excess negative energy.

She didn't realise it when she swung her right leg to straddle Robert's groin.

Robert broke their heated kiss in surprise as Cora began to take more control than she ever displayed in the bedroom and rocked her hips against his while sucking on the delicate skin of his neck. They had only had sex twice before, but both times involved a lot of talking or reassuring before-hand, with Robert on top. But it seemed that the timid cub was gone and a powerful lioness had emerged to take what she wanted. Robert grinned and pulled her nightgown over her head, moaning when he saw that she wasn't wearing undergarments, and pulling her flush against him as he lied down against the bed.

She seemed to become aware of her dominating position as he thrusted up, rubbing against her while still clothed. He felt her stop unbuttoning his shirt and her body slowly became rigid, filling with tension. "Don't stop," he managed to croak in a voice that he knew she loved. "For the love of God; do not stop."

Her decision made, she bent down to lightly kiss his chest and finish the task of removing his clothes. If this is what it felt like to be loved by a woman, than Robert had absolutely no problem with letting her be in control.

* * *

"You look awfully cheery this morning, Robert."

"Enough of that talk, Rosamund. One of these days that mouth of yours will get you into trouble."

"I don't know what you mean, Papa. I'm merely concerned or my darling brother's happiness." She smiled broadly and turned to the young Lord, "so did you sleep well?"

"Rosamund!" Patrick berated his daughter without lowering the newspaper but she only rolled her eyes in response.

"Any exciting plans for the day, dear brother?"

"None that include you," he responded in a sickly sweet voice.

"Oh, trust me. I really don't want to be involve in _those _sort of plans."

"That's it." Lord Grantham pushed out his chair and strode towards the door, grumbling about the library and daughters taking after their mothers.

Mr Levinson laughed, "he really needs to find his sense of humor."

"Haven't you heard? He never had one to find in the first place, much like our Robert here."

"Yes, well, as invigorating as this breakfast conversation was, I must check in with a farmer to see if he's meeting his annual quota. Cora asked me to send you up to her after your breakfast, Sir." Robert was nearly out the door when his father-in-law shouted back.

"I thought we talked about this dear boy, call me Isidore!"

* * *

"Let me get this straight, Pumpkin. Your husband is looking for someone who is probably a most undesirable individual because said individual is working for someone who has blackmailed Patrick?"

"Stop calling me pumpkin and yes, that's about it."

"I will call you Pumpkin when you are an old frail woman with twenty kids and forty grandchildren, so I have no intentions of stopping now."

"I'm so happy to know that you'll outlive us all." Cora rolled her eyes in exasperation, missing the dark shadow that crossed her father's face.

"I've told you, Pumpkin, I'm invincible." Isidore sighed and sat down at the end of her huge bed, placing a hand on her knee and switching his tone from playful to serious, "you do know what will happen if I do what you ask?"

"Yes." His daughter's voice was strong but obviously practiced, she had apparently given this some thought.

"Robert isn't stupid, Cora, he will ask questions and you need to be prepared to answer them."

The use of her real name reminded Cora how much this subject hurt her father and grabbed his hand as a sign of comfort. "I don't mind him knowing about you Poppa, I'm not ashamed of your past and you shouldn't be either. In fact, I think that any questions Robert might have should be answered by you. It's your story to tell Poppa, not mine."

Isidore smiled weakly and kissed his daughter's hand before nodding solemnly and walking out of the room.

* * *

Robert was walking up the gravel drive as Mr Levinson emerged from the front doors wearing a charcoal parka with real black, American bear fur at the collar and cuffs.

"Ah, Robert just the man I wanted to see! Let's go for a stroll through the gardens shall we? Gravel does awful things to Italian leather, you know." Isidore looked down at his pristine shoes and grimaced lightly before looking back at Robert. The loud American strolled leisurely towards his son-in-law and spoke quietly when he finally reached him; never breaking his stride, "follow me."

Robert's brow creased and his head swiveled around to the slowly retreating back of his father-in-law with confusion. _Since when did Americans do subtlety? _He took five seconds before deciding to follow the gaudily dressed man deeper into Downton's estate, assuming it was one of those 'hurt my princess and I'll hunt you down' sort of talks.

The young Lord slowed his stride as they approached the tree next to bench, but Mr Levinson continued to walk ahead towards the woods near the back of the estate. The older man only turned around to face Robert when they were beneath the cover of trees and out of view from the main house.

Robert smiled and tilted his head toward him, "well this is all very cloak and dagger, I must say."

"For good reason, my boy." Isidore avoided his gaze and took a deep breath before continuing, "Cora told me about your father, Robert."

"I see; what did she say?"

"Don't get so defensive, she had good reason to go to me because, well I can help you find the man you're looking for."

This caught the young Lord's attention and he looked at Mr Levinson with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"You see, my father was also a man with few morals. In fact, one could say he didn't have any morals at all. His real name was Frederick Bailey and I never knew him personally. My mother told me that he was a soldier who died overseas called Andrew Levinson, apparently she called him 'Andy', which was something that always stuck with me. You have to understand Robert, we were very poor and the thought that my father was a good and brave man kept me going on the cold, food-less nights... My mother died around the time when I made my fortune and married Martha, it was also the first time I got a letter from Frederick Bailey."

"You don't have to tell me this, Si- Isidore, if you don't want to."

"I would rather you heard it from me, if you don't mind. Just, let me finish."

"Of course, I apologise."

"At first, I didn't know who this man was and why he was demanding money in exchange for his silence... but I soon found out. Apparently my climbing of the ladder of success was quite the story and even made its way to England, where Mr Bailey heard of it. When I found out he was my father I knew there was more to the story than what my mother told me. So I went to England with my new wife and together we went searching for dear old dad. I was in London when I met a man who could use certain skills to find people for a sum of money. Safe to say he found Frederick and got his money, if you want to hire him then I suggest you start in O' Flanagan's, an Irish public house in London."

"Thank you, Isidore, this information is much appreciated." The older man walked away but stopped when Robert spoke again, " but I have a question."

Mr Levinson still didn't turn around when he answered, "yes?"

"Why did she lie? Your mother I mean, when she talked about our father?"

Isidore did not turn to face him but Robert heard him take in a deep breath before continuing. "She was holidaying with her older brother, Andy in Brighton when she was attacked. Andrew fought for her safety but was over-powered and they murdered him. My mother was taken and raped repeatedly, a fact which Freddie loved to shout at me when we finally met years later. From what I gather, he became obsessed and fancied himself in love with her, which is how she was able to escape on a ship headed for America with her unborn baby. He never knew she was pregnant but never forgot her name or her face, as soon as he saw the newspaper article about me, he just knew.

"I don't blame her for lying to me about my father, it supports my firm belief that ignorance is bliss. My father was a cruel and twisted man, forcing a woman to witness her brother's death and borne a child she never wanted but loved wholeheartedly. It must have been so hard for her to love me, a bastard child who looked exactly like the monster who raped her."

Isidore's voice was thick with years of emotion and Robert didn't know what to say other than, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it has nothing to do with you and everything with how you will treat my little girl when I'm gone. Promise me you'll look after her? You'll try to show her kindness if not love?"

"I promise, but it's not forever, Sir. We'll travel to see you and you can always come back to Downton whenever you please."

Isidore smiled like he knew something that Robert didn't and nodded once firmly before turning towards the house and walking stiffly away.

* * *

The carriage carrying his wife's parents could still be heard while they stood on Downton's steps.

"Tea, anyone? Now that we have our library back to ourselves?" Lady Grantham's shrill voice bounced through Robert's skull but he remained holding Cora's hand outside, long after everyone returned inside in the house for tea.

"Are you alright, Cora?"

She nodded, still looking at the gates which the carriage passed through 10 minutes earlier.

"Cora?"

"I'm fine, Robert, just tired. Very tired."

"Hey," he touched her chin with his index finer and tilted her face towards his own. "I was thinking that we could go to London this weekend; see a show, have a nice dinner, get away from Downton and my mother for a few days. We never did have a honeymoon and I think this might be a way to raise our spirits."

Tears clouded her vision but she would not let them fall in front of him and closed her eyes against the dark tenderness of his gaze. "Do you mean that?" Her voice almost sounded strong after a deep breath.

He kissed her eyelids with a gentleness only she would ever receive from him and wrapped his solid arms around her trembling form, "every word."

The young and heart-broken Viscountess finally allowed her tears to fall on the thick brown fabric of her husband's suit as he cradled her body within a protective cage, whispering soft promises of an early night and a weekend away.

* * *

**Four Days Later.**

"Thank you for helping me pack Charles but it really wasn't necessary, it's only two nights."

"I wanted to run through the plan one last time."

"Yes well; the show is tonight, after dinner at eight o'clock. Saturday, I will tell Cora exactly where I am going and head to O' Flanagan's pub to look for the man with 'skills' to hire him to find S.B. Finally, Sunday I will return here and report all to you, _my king_." The young Lord teased.

"Your weak attempts at being witty are starting to get tiresome Robert." Carson shook his head but it was futile against Robert's broad grin.

"You know you love me, really!"

"I've told you m'Lord! I don't allow myself to be tempted into wicked ways with married men!"

Robert made a disgusted face and closed the case on his bed before heading to the door, "did you have to make it weird?"

"You're the one who mentioned love." Carson taunted in a sing-song voice and followed him into the corridor before disappearing through a servants' stairwell. Robert rolled his eyes and wondered what the hotel would be like as he met Cora outside and said goodbye to his family.

"Goodbye, brother dear. Look after each other and make sure to have some fun." Rosamund lightly kissed his cheek and winked at him knowingly.

"Where is Mama?" Robert decided to ignore his sister's irritating comment.

"She slept out and is only having breakfast now," Rosamund's smile faltered slightly. "Don't worry, she'll come around to the both of you eventually. But until then, ye should both choose to bask in the rarely given silence."

"But I fear she won't be silent for much longer and that's the problem," Robert sighed and swung into the carriage next to his wife.

"Farewell Rosamund, try not to burn the house down in my absence; I'm rather fond of this pile of bricks!"

"Well, that's reason enough for me to knock it down, dearest brother, just to see your face fall!"

Cora grabbed his hand as the horses started to trot down the drive, "must ye torment each other?"

Robert tilted his face towards hers with a devilish grin plastering his features, "Downton would be a very boring place if Rosamund and I stopped playing petty games of torment."

"Hmm. Tell me again of our plans." She placed her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes in peace.

"Well, after the train arrives in London we will head to Grantham House where our servants may unpack while we have luncheon. Then we shall walk around the city before getting ready for dinner. After dinner we shall head to the Gaiety for 'Faust up to date' and after that," He bent his head and whispered in her ear, "the night is ours."

* * *

"Oh, Robert that was fabulous! The sets, the costumes. Oh, the singing!"

"I agree wholeheartedly my dear, especially with your sentiments on the costumes." Robert whispered so as not to be heard by the other people queuing to get their coats in the foyer and leave the Gaiety.

Cora turned and slapped him lightly on the chest, "don't be so crude!"

"I'm deadly serious. You don't think one could buy one of _those_ costumes, do you?"

"Probably, but I wouldn't know the first place to start looking for a burlesque dress."

"Pity; I would go through great lengths to see you in frills and a short skirt."

Cora rolled her eyes and stretched to look over the crowd. "I never would have thought that people would be going out so close to a holiday."

Robert snorted. "Halloween is hardly a holiday, Cora."

She shook her head and looked towards him in mock disgust, "I still cannot believe that you don't celebrate Halloween, it was such a big part of my childhood that it just doesn't make sense to me."

"Well, it's largely a Christian holiday that originated in Ireland so it makes perfect sense for an English aristocrat like myself to not partake in the festivities. I don't even know what it involves being honest, I've lived in Downton my whole life so I never even saw glimpses of the village children tricking."

Cora bit her lip trying to contain a smile and raised an eyebrow, "do you mean 'trick-or-treating'?"

Robert's lips tilted upwards as he realised his mistake and nodded, "as I said; I don't really know what it involves."

"It's full of traditions! I lived in Cincinnati all my life in a townhouse so I was 'tricking' every year. One of the kitchen maids was Irish and she told me about ghost stories and traditions in her household, like bobbing for apples. I remember trying to convince Poppa to let me dive for apples in a bucket with Harold, I think he was just happy that I wanted to play and not do needlepoint like the other 'good little girls'. He even joined us in the game, but afterwards Mother was not at all impressed because the three of us got the flu!"

Robert laughed imagining his wife as a small girl dangling in a bucket trying to catch apples with her mouth and looked at her with a baffled expression, "every day, I find out something that changes everything I thought I knew about you, something exciting and unexpected."

"Something pleasant, I hope."

"Everything about you is pleasant."

Cora suddenly grabbed his forearm in a tight grip, stopping him from moving forward in the line.

"Cora, what is it?"

"Lord Rookwood is coming this way."

"What? Oh, great, that's all we need. Don't mention my father." Cora nodded and plastered a smile on her face as Rookwood greeted them.

"Lord and Lady Downton! What a surprise to see the two of you here in London."

"Good evening, Lord Rookwood. We decided to catch a show after Cora's parents left. What's your excuse?" Robert smiled falsely but Rookwood was too busy looking at Cora to notice the look of disdain on the young Lord's face.

"Oh I was always a sucker for French adaptions and long legs in short skirts. No better way to spend a Friday night, eh? Are you in London for long?"

Cora felt Robert tense under her hand and decided to answer, lest he gave the game away, "we're leaving Sunday, after Halloween."

Rookwood's eyes lit up in interest and his upper body seemed to lean further towards her, "ah, yes, all Hallow's eve falls on the 'morrow, doesn't it? Tell me, shall you be dressing up?"

Robert's eyes flashed dangerously as the disgusting leech tried to flirt with his wife. The repulsing thoughts circling in Rookwood's head was obvious to anyone with eyes and Robert was not impressed. _There's nothing so ill-bred as trying to steal another man's wife. __  
_

"I usually don't partake in something so childish as putting on a mask to beg for sweeties, but of course I don't judge if dressing up is something you like to do, _m'Lord_."

Robert blinked in surprise as Cora managed to turn his title into an insult and noticed that they were next in line for their coats. Although the older man wasn't nearly as amused, "why you little-"

"Of course, one could say that you don't need to put on a mask to be scary. One could even suggest that your visage is quite frightening the way it is now, Lord Rookwood." She smoothly interrupted.

_His face is actually quite ugly like that, _mused Robert as he handed a slip of paper with their seat number to the lad at the desk for their coats.

Rookwood's face had gone a violent purple, obviously trying to contain himself from making a scene and his mouth was opening and closing rhythmically.

"Here y'are, Lord Downton. Two coats, private Grantham box number 3."

"Thank you. Come along, Cora, the car will be waiting. Goodbye Lord Rookwood!" Robert took their two coats and steered Cora towards the door, leaving Rookwood firmly in his place with his mouth hanging open and his face changing colors.

Robert erupted in laughter as soon as their coats were on and they were walking away from the Gaiety.

"Did you see his face? Oh, my dear, that was brilliant, _you _were brilliant! I must admit, I thought I was going to punch the foul git for a moment but then you swooped in like a warrior, brandishing a sword of wit. My very own Boadicea."

She was silent as he praised her and he stopped walking to hold her face within his palms, feeling a wetness on her cheeks; she was crying.

"Oh, Robert, I shouldn't have done that! Your mother will hear about it no doubt and kill me for daring to defend myself. I can hear her now, 'I told you Patrick, but what can we expect from an American.' But I couldn't just stand there when we was looking at me like a piece of meat from the butcher's, blatantly staring at my chest!"

"Ssh, my darling, it's okay, he deserved it. Mama won't say anything, if she does then I'll deal with her. I promise." He frowned and brought her body close to his own, folding her within his strong arms and blocking out the rest of the world, not realising that that was the first time he called her anything other than 'dear' "Ssh, it's okay."

"Robert?" She turned her head into his neck and inhaled the sweet musky smell of spearmint and tobacco. "Yes?"

"His face was rather funny wasn't it?"

He laughed in response and placed a kiss on her head before breaking away and urging her to walk on. They decided to walk home rather than use the car before going to the show but now he was regretting that decision. A comfortable silence reigned between them until Robert heard the distinct sound of muffled footsteps starting behind them. He loosened his grip on Cora's arm, muttering something about a lace and bent down to fiddle with his shoe while discretely looking behind his back. Seeing no-one, he straightened and carried on but the click-click of men's boots started up again, causing Robert to become paranoid and look behind him for a second time, catching a glimpse of a dirty trench coat sweeping into a side-alley. Robert frowned, listening to the steps following them and continued to walk until Grantham House came into view about fifty meters away.

"Oh, no!" He groaned and patted his pockets in mock irritation, "I left my wallet at the Gaiety."

"Really? Never mind, let's go back and check for it, it's not far."

"No! I mean, it's very cold and I'll be quicker by myself, you carry on to the house, I'll be back in fifteen minutes." He kissed her cheek and gently pushed her towards the house.

"Alright, but hurry back."

"Always."

He watched her climb the front steps of the townhouse before swiftly pivoting and going back the way they came. The night was silent now and Robert walked on the balls of his feet to avoid making any sounds. As he approached another side alley, the scent of cheap cigarette smoke wafted towards him, betraying his stalker's hiding place. The young Lord crept towards the garbage bin at the start of the alley, tensing his muscles and internally reviewing fighting sessions with Carson. He inhaled deeply and took a large step, blocking the entrance of the alley with his body, staring into the darkness.

A flare of bright orange illuminated the pitch black as a man in a long dirty trench coat took a breath from his cigarette, if he was surprised to see Robert there, he didn't show it. The man was tall but not taller than Robert and a bit bulkier in size, his tan coloured hat covered his head, but not his eyes which appeared to be black or a very dark brown.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to speak, Robert clenched his fist and took the initiative, "who are you?"

The man paused to take another drag and removed his hat, revealing short black hair that was greased back against his head. "Calm down ol' boy, what are you gonna do? Kill me?"

Robert didn't answer but took another step forward showing his stony face. A face that gave nothing away but took everything the world had to offer. This look screamed of a man who would do whatever he had to do, to get something he wanted.

"I'm a friend of Mr Levinson's, he said you needed to find someone?" The man didn't seem phased by Robert's look even though he answered the question and extinguished the cigarette. "I thought I'd save you the trouble of going to O' Flanagan's; didn't seem like your kinda place."

"How _kind_ of you."

The other man raised his eyebrow but otherwise ignored Robert's taunt. "Who are you looking for?"

"I don't know his name."

"That's fine but just so you know, that's extra. Hell of a lot of work, finding a man without a name."

"I don't care how much it costs, I need to find him. His initials are S.B and he stayed at the club by Leicester square, in the Grantham suite. He may also be a friend of Lord Rookwood's, if that helps."

"That helps a lot, thank you. I'll be in touch before you leave on Sunday." He put his hat back on and waited for Robert to step out-of-the-way.

"How did y- never mind, I don't want to know. But I do have one more question."

"Yes?"

"What is your name?"

The man opened his mouth to respond but quickly snapped it shut again and pushed Robert into the stone wall before the young Lord even realised that there was someone else behind him.

He turned around in time to see what appeared to be a homeless man wielding a knife, lunging for the man that pushed him out of the way. Robert was still for another second, watching as the man grabbed his attacker's wrist holding the knife and twisted it in an angle that no bone should ever be subjected to. The homeless man screamed in pain and dropped the knife on the cobbled street, generating a sickening screech of metal on stone.

Robert grabbed the bum's collar when the man let his wrist go and pushed him violently against the wall.

"Who are you!?" Robert detested being so close to a man who smelt of stale beer and urine but he needed answers and this couldn't be a coincidence.

"Lemme go, ya prick!" Spittle from the man's toothless mouth flew onto Robert's face and he responded by sending a right hook into the bum's jaw.

"Ah! Wha' was tha' for!?"

"For not answering my question."

"Alri', this guy dressed all fancy and lookin' kinda pissed comes up t' me and offers 50 pounds to teach ya a lessun!"

"Why me?" Robert growled and pushed him against the wall when he started to struggle.

"Well, I don' fuckin' know! Says ya needa learn how t' keepa bitch on a leash. S'maybe ya gal pissed 'im off!"

"Rookwood," the young Lord muttered under his breath.

"Wha' was tha' posh boy?"

Robert narrowed his eyes and threw the bum on the floor, who screamed when he landed on his broken wrist. "You tell whomever hired you that if he wants to teach me a lesson then he can teach it himself!"

Robert sighed and turned to look at the man that had the cigarette, who was staring at him with raised eyebrows. Robert never saw the bum pick up the knife with his bad hand and walk towards the young Lord's back.

"Downton, look out!"

The man pushed Robert away for a second time that night and kicked the bum hard in the face, knocking him out.

Robert regained his balance and stared at the street rat sprawled out in the dirty alley. "Is he dead?"

"Just unconscious, I think. You sure have a lot of enemies for a 'posh boy'."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Don't be; this is officially my favourite case now." The man grinned and propped the bum against the wall so it looked like he was sleeping.

"What do you exactly anyway?" Robert asked.

"I'm sort of like a P.I but in a slightly illegal way seeing as I'm not a P.I."

"Ah, well that cleared up lots of questions." Robert replied, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "And you drop the formalities by the way, if you're going to doing some slightly illegal things for me then you can call me by my given name." He extended his hand out to the man and smiled slightly, "Robert Crawley."

The other man looked at his hand for second and then towards Robert who was still dressed in white tie; probably deciding whether or not the young Lord was tricking him. He nodded once and clasped Robert's hand with his own, "pleased to meet you, Robert Crawley. I'm John Bates."

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to all who have taken an interest in this story and reviewed! The show they go to is a French burlesque play called Faust up to date that premiered in the Gaiety theater on the 30th of October 1888, in case ye were wondering about why they were talking about Halloween and stuff.


	4. Jasmine and Autumn Leaves

"Simon Bricker is waiting in the foyer m'Lord. Shall I send him in?"

Rookwood waved his hand in acquiescence and used his other hand to throw back the last two fingers of his brandy down his throat. The golden liquid had lost its burning sensation after the third glass, but he continued to drink out of boredom and anger.

"Well don't you just look peachy at nine o'clock on a Saturday morning!" Bricker's cheerful tones sent a ringing through his ears and irritated him to no end.

"Who says I went to bed? It's still Friday night to me."

Bricker collapsed into an armchair opposite Rookwood and snatched a crystal decanter of scotch, taking a large gulp not bothering with a glass.

"If you stain my crystal, I'll use your skin to wipe it clean."

"That's a lovely image but unfortunately, I've got bigger problems than your aesthetic use of language."

"And they are?" Rookwood asked but not really caring, instead he looked longingly at the bottom of his empty brandy glass.

"Someone's been going around London asking questions about me; about you."

"Now that is interesting," Rookwood inhaled through his nose and looked up in thought. "I saw Downton and his latest ride at the Gaiety last night. Let's just say that they didn't seem to want to participate in civil conversation."

"You think they know something?"

"I know they know something. But I don't know what or how. Grantham would never drag his son through the shit. His name is already stained but at least his son would be innocent if it all got out and therefore keeping his precious title and estate innocent by default. Robert isn't stupid though he would have figured it out sooner or later. We'll just have to be more careful from now on."

"I heard he got married while I was on my travels. His wife is supposed to be beautiful."

Rookwood snorted and shakily stretched his neck, "bitch needs to be put down."

It was a well know fact that Paul Rookwood became extremely violent when intoxicated, but no-one had ever seemed to mind this flaw because somehow, the liquor also sharpened his intellect in a bizarre sense of unfair irony. He seemed to re-think that statement and turned to Bricker with a dangerous gleam in his eye, "or at least a muzzle."

Bricker raised his eyebrow and resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, Paul was always so dramatic in a temper. "On the contrary; the American is rumored to have fit into aristocratic life swimmingly, and I do love beautiful things."

"Well, this _thing_ has no sense of propriety or decorum!"

"And you do?"

"I never claimed that I did my dear Mr Bricker, but the absence off such qualities in a Lady are unbecoming."

"What did she say to you?"

Rookwood gritted his teeth so hard it looked painful for his jaw to be locked in such a position and spat out his answer, "she called me childish and ugly."

Bricker was silent for five seconds before collapsing in a fit of laughter. "You want to 'put her down' because she called you ugly!?" He asked after wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Shut up or get out of my house. We need to plan for the possibility of Downton finding out about what we're doing."

Simon Bricker straightened and poured a scotch for Rookwood, keeping the bottle for himself. "The answer to that question is easy."

"Yes?" Rookwood accepted the glass and looked at his partner with a weary gaze.

"Pin it all on Grantham."

* * *

A few streets over, the topic of their discussion was waking slowly between the sheets of his bed in a London townhouse. Robert Crawley stretched slowly and smiled at the feeling of silk fabric sliding over his naked skin, reminding him of the feather-light touch of his wife, he opened his eyes to see the pale expanse of her back next to him. She was also unashamedly naked.

His smile disappeared as he remembered the way that Rookwood had looked at her last night. Cora had been right in describing him as someone who viewed women as pieces of meat. The look in his eyes was dangerous and Robert was unprepared for the powerful surge of protectiveness and jealousy that sped through him as he remembered the night before, remembered what that street rat had called his perfect Countess; _bit__ch. _His feelings were all over the place lately, especially when it came to Cora and his feelings for her. But one thing was absolutely certain; she was his. No-one, not a grovelling rat nor an angry Lord was going to touch her.

He recalled the night when they first met at Lord Rookwood's ball:  
_"He didn't do anything forward, did he?"_  
_"No, he just. No, he didn't"_

The thought that Rookwood laid a finger on Cora or made her in any way uncomfortable, provoked violent thoughts in the young Lord's mind. Fury bubbled under Robert's skin and the urge to protect her, to claim her, became stronger. He leaned over and swept her long ebony hair on the pillow so that he could place harsh kisses on the back of her neck. She made no sign of waking yet so he climbed over her to lick and suck the delicate skin there, creating popping sounds every time he released a patch of her alabaster flesh.

They had all the time in the world and Robert planned on using that to his advantage, he was going to make her _beg_ for him, he would leave his mark on her body that only he could see and erase all his thoughts of other men touching her. She was his.

He started to bite her skin lightly before sucking hard, leaving purple stains on an otherwise flawless canvas and eventually she started to stir beneath him. "Robert?" She gasped his name and he was pleased to recognise the heavy scent of her sweet essence as it clouded his senses and filled the air. He bent down to latch his teeth on her earlobe and growled, "who else would it be, Cora?"

He reached under them and grasped one of her soft breasts in his hands, smirking when she almost groaned under his ministrations. _Well, she's definitely awake now, ol' boy. _

He pulled and teased the supple flesh, making it tender and sensitive before mercilessly pinching her nipple into an unyielding peak; making her back arch away from his iron hold. The image of her white back bowed, with little red marks of his own doing scattered around her shoulders, stuck in his mind like a swan about to take flight.

He decided to torture her further by placing a hand in the middle of her shoulder blades and pushing her chest down into the plush mattress below, sliding back he placed his knees in between her legs and pushed them wide apart. The apex of her thighs was already glistening and moist but he ignored it and returned his attentions to her neck, always keeping her legs from closing together and preventing her from creating the friction she obviously wanted.

"Your mine, Miss Levinson. Say it." His voice held the undertones of a lion growling while his mouth did unspeakable things to her tender skin.

She had no choice but to comply, "I'm yours." Her voice was the opposite to his own and she envied him for his control; it wasn't Robert's deliberate low purr, but a weak gasp at the tail-end of an exhaled breath. He bit down slightly harder this time and spoke, "say it again. Like you mean it this time."

"I'm yours, completely yours." He chuckled against her skin while his hands wandered over her body languidly; producing shivers and a wanton desire for what would surely come.

"Better."

Cora groaned and pressed her hips into the mattress, desperate to fill the feeling of emptiness pulsing from her core, but her legs were too far apart to gain any friction and she nearly sobbed with frustration. She tried to bring her legs closer together, anything to stall the rapidly building arousal, but his knees were solid and strong in the face of her feeble attempts. "Please." She whispered.

"Please what?" He snapped the 't' sound with his teeth making it sound oddly erotic, but Cora's frustration grew tenfold when his fingers drifted down to lightly stroke the wet, black curls between her thighs. She moaned and tilted her hips, trying desperately to get him to apply at least some pressure to her now throbbing bundle of nerves, but again he only continued to lightly stroke and tease, barely even touching her. "Please, Robert."

He immediately pressed his entire body into her own, sliding his hands under Cora to hold her aching breasts and pulled her unto her knees. Her breathing increased when she felt the tip of his manhood resting against where she needed him the most. His chest was rough and masculine against her back but she would never forget his next words, spoken in that unique metallic rasp, as long as she lived.

"How can I be expected to give you something, when you can't even say it? You have to tell me, Cora." He used her first name this time and his tongue could always do awful things to those two syllables when he wanted it to. She would forever be, weak at the knees for _his_ English accent. He gently rocked his hips against hers and whispered in her ear, "tell me what you want."

She whimpered loudly and pushed her hips back against his again, "I want you!"

Robert's eyes closed briefly and he kneeled back, grabbing his wife's hips and aligning their sex's. "Good enough."

With one thrust of his hips, they were finally joined together. The angle was new and created a lot of different sensations in them both as he sank deeper into her heat. Her velvet walls pulsed and clenched around his shaft. It was somehow tighter in this position and the tension was suffocating Robert in the most exquisite way. But to stop now was unthinkable and he rhythmically moved in and out. His grip slowly tightened on her hips every time he heard her gasps of pleasure, or when he hit that particularly sensitive spot that was so easy to reach from this angle.

Robert's movements were starting to become more frantic and sweat was gathering on his chest as his thighs began to ache sweetly. All he wanted to do was let go. The tell-tale sign of her walls fluttering couldn't come soon enough and her back arched again, so hard that it must have been painful, signalling her climax. He groaned in deep human satisfaction, their moans coming together in the late hours of the morning

His wife collapsed down on the bed and he soon followed, landing next to her in a heap.

"That was... unexpected." She was out of breath and her eyes were closed. Robert let his eyes wander over her skin that was now flushed red from their recent activities and dotted with love bites.

"I'm sorry, for waking you."

"Don't be. In fact, you have permission to wake me like that, anytime." Robert laughed loudly and she finally looked at him, "I'm serious."

"I know, that's what makes it funny." She smiled in response and stretched with a yawn.

"We should get up and dressed, I have a surprise for you." He moved to get up and retrieve his dressing gown but felt a tug on his arm, "Cora?"

"Five more minutes."

"No, I have a surprise for you. Come on. Get up."

"Just hold me for five more minutes. Please Robert?"

He sighed and went back to bed, holding her for a further fifteen minutes before they got up.

* * *

Robert took his wife's hand as he led her out of the servant's entrance downstairs and into the walled courtyard at the back of Grantham house. To the right were the stairs leading to front of the large townhouse and they were standing close to ward off the crisp October air.

"Why are we out here, Robert?"

"Well, my dear; last night I came to the conclusion that even though I would do almost anything for you, including dive headfirst into a bucket of cold water for apples, I would rather not get the flu. So, as a compromise I asked my valet to get me two very special items for my very special wife." Cora blushed as he stepped away from her, towards a small table in the corner of the courtyard with a blue sheet of plastic covering a large bump on it. As he grasped the edge of the plastic, his eyes met hers again before looking away briefly in a nervous fashion.

"I thought we could make our own traditions," he pulled the sheet and Cora gasped as she saw what lay underneath.

"Oh, Robert. This is... I don't know what to say. Are you sure?" She stepped closer to him and picked up the small carving knife, testing it's weight while he laughed, "of course I'm sure. Mama would have a heart attack if we did this at Downton, so I'm also sure that this is the safest option even though the servants will no doubt tell her anyway."

Cora laughed and dropped the knife next to large pumpkin on the table before spinning to wrap her hands around his neck. "No-one has ever done anything like this for me before." She bit her lip as his hands snaked around her waist, feeling his body heat through the multiple layers of clothing.

"I have never had anyone to do this for, before." He smiled at her and he was suddenly reminded of that night on the balcony so long ago, where her deep blue eyes had captivated him, just like they were doing now. The sky was a cold baby blue and it only served to make her eyes somehow brighter and more full of life. Her plump bottom lip was still stuck between her pearly teeth and he inhaled deeply; smelling the heavy earth of dead Autumn leaves and her jasmine scented soap. She released her lip with a soft pop causing his breath to hitch as he watched the area she had bitten fill with blood, making her lip seem a deeper red than normal. His eyes slowly traced back to her eyes and she shivered under the scrutiny of his gaze.

Robert moved his large hands to cup her face within the heat his palms, stroking his thumb languidly across her cheekbones, before whispering in a low metallic voice that would turn any sensible woman to mush.

"If I saw you, everyday, forever. I would remember you like this."

Cora barely finished her reply of "Oh, Robert," before his lips descended on hers lightly. He plucked and pulled, gently increasing the pressure and pace of his kisses until they were both gasping cold air in between every turn of the head. Her hands tightened on his broad shoulders as his tongue slid past her teeth, intertwining with her own, until he did something that he had never done before.

He backed away a hair's breadth before claiming her lower lip between his own teeth and biting it gently. He suckled and licked before the pain became too sharp, erasing any trace of his earlier assault. She tasted of everything that was right with the world and he was fixed with the deep-seated belief that kissing his wife's delectable lower lip was pure heaven. Who needed Olympus when he was inhaling nectar at this very moment?

He backed away panting slightly, "you have no idea how long I have wanted to do that."

She did nothing but blink in response and he nodded once before stepping away and grasping the knife in his right hand. "Shall I cut off the top first?"

She inhaled slowly before answering, wondering briefly at his irritating ability to put his mind on the task at hand and ignore all previous traces of arousal. "Yes, we'll have to clear out all the seeds and I hate the smell of pumpkin."

"Alright then, come here." She walked over to the orange pumpkin on the table and stood in front of him with her back to his chest. He placed her hand on the knife and then covered it with his own. "We'll do it together." His voice was just a whisper,, barely blocking out the wind. But it seemed like a scream to her sensitive ears and her hand would have shook with the feel of his strong body pressed against her own, if it wasn't for his hand keeping the blade steady. Once again she marveled at her husband's strength because pumpkin carving was honestly, the last hing thing on Cora's mind.

* * *

"Come on, we should let them get here. I have a surprise for you in the drawing-room anyway."

"Another one? Is there bad news and are you trying to soften the blow before it comes?"

He laughed and took her hand in his, leading her to the drawing-room, "no, I just like to see you smile and I like it even more I'm the reason for that smile."

"Who are you and what have done to my husband? Are you sure there's nothing wrong? You've been acting very strange lately."

"I think it's being away from my parents and.."

"And?"

They stopped outside the large door and he rubbed his forehead. A habit which she thought was adorable.

"Don't tell anyone because it's slightly strange but... this business with my father and Rookwood is leading to something big, I can feel it. All of this sneaking around and hiring 'men with skills' is, while horrible, a little exhilarating."

"Exhilarating?"

"Yes, I know it sounds strange but all of the secrets and men with agendas makes me feel alive. Makes me feel a rush I've never known before when I have a brush with danger. And at the end of the day, I know I have you to come home to. Which makes me a feel a different kind of rush altogether."

He opened the door for her and she walked into fire-lit red room ahead of him while shaking her head. But before she could respond, a deep voice pierced the darkness.

"How touching."

Robert shoved Cora behind him and whirled to face the darkest corner in the room where the vaguely familiar voice had come from. "Who's there?"

"Forgotten me already, _Robert_? Well, now I'm just insulted."

"Bates?!" _  
_

"The one and only. You really should update your security; it was remarkably easy to get in here."

Robert sighed and tried to still his beating heart, "Why on Earth are you even here?!"

Cora lightly touched his shoulder and stepped out from behind him, "Robert, you need to stop shouting or the servants will come in here. Bates, is it? Bates, why don't you sit down and we can all talk."

"This is your new wife? I like her, she's got spunk. Not afraid of taking control of a situation; always admirable in a woman. Call me John, dear." He strode out of the shadows and the firelight played with his features, causing beams of red light to flash in his almost-black eyes, and stuck out his hand in front of her. He was dressed in the same tanned trench coat, but had obviously washed it and his hat was dangling from his left hand that was also holding a silver box.

Robert watched as his wife shook hands with his 'slightly illegal' private investigator and walked slowly towards the couch. He waited until they were both seating and then took the armchair opposite Bates but next to Cora.

"Forgive me for not exchanging pleasantries but why are you here?"

"Well, I did as you asked and discovered what the breed of the eagle was." John looked pointedly at Robert but the young Lord's gaze was more vacant than ever.

"What eagle?"

"Oh for God's sake Robert. He's speaking in code! He probably thinks that you haven't filled me in yet."

John looked at Robert but pointed at Cora and said, "I _really_ like her. Are you sure she shouldn't be the one that Rookwood is sending men to attack? Women with brains can be dangerous, you know?"

"Oh, yes. You saved him last night didn't you?"

"He didn't _save _me! I did not need saving!"

"Sure did, he kept his back turned from the attacker the whole time; nearly got knifed as well. It's lucky I was there to be honest."

"Thank you for saving my husband, John."

"He didn't - never mind. Don't make me repeat my question. Fill. Me. In."

John beamed at Cora and chuckled at how easy it was to get a raise out of the young Lord. "I found S.B he's an art historian named Simon Bricker and was in Africa until two weeks ago. I presume that was why he needed a room from your father. He's currently staying at a rented townhouse near Oxford Street and appears to be friendly with Lord Rookwood."

"You found out all that in one day? I only hired you last night!"

"Well, my dear Lord Downton, like you, Mr Bricker is seriously lacking in good security. Plus, I did most of the sleuthing after our little rendezvous last night and he went out this morning. It's remarkably easy to pick a lock, you know?"

"No, I don't know but I guess that's why I hired you. Wait, what is that, in your hand?"

"This, Robert, is a hat. Men wear it when it's sunny or raining or to complete on outfit, but it's just good manners to takes off ones hat in another man's house. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"Ha ha very witty. I meant the box?" Robert growled.

"I found it on the table and it had chocolate in it."

"So you ATE it?!"

"Well, it was just lying there, so I thought why the hell not?"

"That box of chocolates was a present for my WIFE!"

"Oh, it's a good thing I didn't eat them then, isn't it?"

"What?"

John erupted in a fit of laughter and placed the unopened box of chocolates on the table. "You should have seen your face! Oh my God, that was priceless."

Cora was smiling indulgently but Robert had a feeling that something was wrong and hoisted Bates to his feet by the collar. He heard the maids clearing in the dining room so he dragged Bates through the servant's door out into the courtyard, ignoring Cora's calls. he shoved Bates against the wall and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Have you been drinking!?"

"Come now, Robert. It was only a sip!"

"I should have known you were inebriated as soon as you started to joke around."

"Have you ever thought that your face is just so funny when you're pissed off. Life's short Downton, it's good to have a laugh now and then."

Robert sighed and remembered the wedding ring he saw yesterday, "get cleaned up John. Go home to your wife."

"Ha! Now _that_ is funny! Hey! What's that?"

"What's what?"

"The glowing orange thing with a face. Over there. You can see it too, right? I didn't have that much, only two pints!" John held up his hand to show five fingers and tried to wink but ended up blinking rapidly.

"That's called a pumpkin. Cora's from America and they celebrate Halloween a lot more traditionally than the English so I bought a pumpkin for us to carve. The house keeper must have put a candle in it." He smiled faintly as he looked at the ghastly orange face. Cora's hand wouldn't stop shaking for some reason.

"It's ugly-looking. I envy you, Downton. You got it all! Pretty wife, money, glowing orange thingys that you make with your pretty wife. You got a good ticket in the lottery of life my friend!"

"That's an odd phrase." Robert helped John up the steps and thought about ordering a taxi.

"My ol' man used to say it. He doesn't say much anymore though."

"Is he sick?"

"Naw, he's six feet under."

Robert was irked by the other man's blase attitude and responded hesitantly, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Why? He was an asshole."

"On that happy note, you should get home."

"You're probably right. I'll stay on Brickwood and contact you if I find anything."

Robert ignored the wrong name and watched as Bates stumbled home, not leaving to enter the house until he was out of sight.

"Sit by the fire, Robert. You must be freezing."

"He was drunk. I knew something was wrong when he giggled, he was very serious when I first met him." Robert leaned towards the flames and thought about their pumpkin. Their new traditions. Bates was right, he did get a good ticket.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She said while rubbing his shoulders.

"Why is it that everyone is so surprised that I have a beautiful wife?"

She laughed and moved to sit in his lap, his arms instantly wrapped around her middle.

"I don't know and i don't care," her gaze turned serious, "we're leaving tomorrow."

"I know."

She nodded and leaned her forehead against his. It was then when he realised how tired they both were, he had no sleep last night and she was awoken rather abruptly in the morning. "Come, let's go to bed."

That was the first night Robert and Cora slept in the same bed with no questions or love-making. She smiled as he kissed her cheek good night and they slept soundly. Together.

* * *

"Hello Mama, Papa, my darling sister! It's good to be home!" Robert felt it was easier to lie to his family then to say that he wished he could be curled, naked and sated in bed until three in afternoon with his wife. But, no. He had to be here, back in his gilded cage, filled with rules and manners and his parents. _God, help me. _

"Robert, Cora! How was the show?"

"Excellent, everything from the sets to the costumes was fabulous!"

"I'm glad to hear it," Lord Grantham smiled weakly and grasped his son's hand, "there's tea in the library for you."

"How lovely, will you join us?"

Cora secretly hoped he would say no but didn't show disappointment when he agreed to have one cup. There was large purple circles under the old man's eyes and Cora felt a stab of pity for the Lord in front of her. Any man married to Lady Grantham deserved pity as far as she was concerned.

When they were all settled and had a cup of tea, Violet started to talk about her friends in London and how she was thinking of holding a Christmas ball.

"I don't know it might be nice, we could invite the servants and make a tradition of it. That sort of thing is coming into fashion, you know? They could enjoy themselves and have a good time, it would be like a Christmas treat for them."

Robert rolled his eyes as his Mother droned on and on about Lady-with-a-failed-marriage and Lord-needs-to-a-get-wife. Out of all of them Robert most enjoyed, Duchess-fainted-at-a-ball-because-the-paintings-were-flirting-with-her. _I wonder what she was on... I wonder where I could get some. _He smiled privately as he imagined having a 'special cigarette' with Cora. _She'd probably say no... wouldn't she? Stop it, man! Get a grip! Think of something else. Okay, umm, oh look Cora's smiling at me. Hmmm, Cora. _Images of a pale, arching back flashed in front of his eyes. _Back up, back up, back up! Okay, umm, poetry, that's not arousing at all. I wandered lonely as a cloud. Ugh, I hate being lonely. Wait, I'm not lonely. I have Cora. Hmmm, Cora. _Robert bit back a groan and forced himself to listen to the end of his mother's speech.

"...so I told Lord Rookwood that it wouldn't be any problem if he and his friend wanted to stay for a night."

Robert's head snapped up and Lord Grantham spilled his tea as he jerked in realisation. "What!?" They both shouted.

"I said, that Lord Rookwood sent me a letter saying that he was buying some art in Ripon tomorrow with his friend, Simon Bricker, who is an art historian and he wondered if they could stay for a night. I didn't see a problem as he was here for _the wedding _and everyone seemed to be very friendly then."

"Tell him, no! This is not a hotel and I will not have you renting out rooms in my house like a local pub!"

"Don't you dare shout at me, Patrick Crawley. I asked you last night if it was okay and you nodded! I distinctly remember you nodding at me like a moody little boy and I have already sent the letter. They'll be here tomorrow and you will be civil! The both of you!"

Robert masked his emotions at muttered something about unpacking as he walked out of the library, _I have to tell Carson!_

* * *

"What are we going to do? It's not like we can warn Mama, or even Rosamund. Honestly, Charles, you should have seen the way he looked at Cora, I don't think I could stand the two of them in a room together. God knows what this Mr Bricker is like, and they're obviously here for a reason, rather than just giving my father and I heart attacks!"

"Stop your whinging and think of a plan! Is there anyone we know, preferably male that could come here with a plausible explanation at such short notice who could help keep an eye on things? I could watch downstairs but I can't see everything, yourself and Lady Downton could choose one man each to keep an eye on all evening, but I think we'll need a fourth just in case."

Robert's brow furrowed in thought as he worried about dragging Cora even deeper into the whole mess, until Carson snapped his fingers. "Robert? What did you say that man's name was? The one that knocked out that homeless man?"

* * *

"Excuse me Mr Evans, can I have a word?"

"Of course, Charles, come in, close the door!"

"I was wondering about the small party tomorrow and if we'll need extra help now that George's leg is broken?"

"Yes, that was just our luck, wasn't it; the second footman falls down the stairs the day before two men are due to be staying at Downton." The butler's eyes lit up and he lent forward in his chair, "do you happen to know a possible replacement?"

"Yes, he lives in London and is also a trained valet." Carson said nothing about how George happened to fall. What Mr Evans doesn't know, can't hurt him. "His name is John Bates and he can be here by noon tomorrow if he catches the milk train."

"Excellent, tell him that I would be very glad of his help," Evans sighed and glanced down to a picture on his desk. It was a young girl in a very old photograph and the frame was a shining silver with intricate designs and expensive looking stones carved into it. It must have cost him an arm and a leg.

"That's a very beautiful frame, Sir."

Evans looked momentarily confused before smiling slightly, "a very beautiful frame for a very beautiful girl."

It couldn't be a daughter; Carson knew he was never married. "Your niece, Sir?"

"No, my sister, she died very young... But enough of that, send Mr Bates into me when he arrives tomorrow." Carson recognised his dismissal and felt instantly bad for prying into the old butler's private life.

"Of, course. Goodnight Sir."


	5. A Shock To The System

The door opened just as John took out a cigarette.

"You can't smoke that in here," a boy spoke firmly from the doorway, dressed in dirty hang-me-downs. John nodded and put the fag in his pocket for later.

"Is Mr Evans there?"

"Who's askin'?"

"My name is John Bates, I'm here as a favour to Charles Carson."

"Oh, yeah, the stand-in footman. I'm Ben, one of the hall-boys. Have you ever served before?" Ben showed him into a large room with a table in the middle that had shoes on it. "Yes, I'm a trained valet."

"Well the liveries are in that cupboard and gloves are in the drawer. Charles is in the kitchen, will I fetch him for you?"

"Please."

John went hunting for a livery that fit him, but they all looked to be a tight fit over his large frame.

"You must be Bates." John's first thought was that this man had the deepest voice in human history. The second was that this man knew what he was doing. Carson was standing in the doorway effectively blocking any escape. While keeping his hands by his side to appear open and if necessary, block any attacks.

"And you must be Carson." The two men stood still, staring at each other warily. All John could hear was the other servants down the hall and his pounding head. Carson moved and extended his arm out to him.

As they were shaking hands, Carson leaned in, "I have a powder in my room if you want it."

"Really?" John's world suddenly seemed a little brighter at the prospect of getting some relief from his hangover. "I mean, thank you. How did you know?"

"Robert mentioned that you were intoxicated two nights ago when you went to see him. Someone who works, drinks and then breaks into his employer's home has a schedule. It usually ends up getting them killed. You went out last night too?"

"Yes, but I still don't see how you could have known that."

Carson pulled John's hand closer to his chest and looked right into his eyes. His nostrils flared and John got the horrible realisation that the man was smelling him.

"Your breath smells of toothpaste but your coat stinks of smoke and that brown stain looks a lot like vomit. Robert also mentioned that you washed your coat on Saturday, it's now Monday, so for it to smell that bad you would have had to been around a lot of smokers; let's say in a bar. Your eyes are bright but slightly bloodshot and the skin around them is stretched, like it's straining to keep your eyes open. The collar of your suit is also wet but it didn't rain this morning. It rained last night. Which means that you were out so late that you still haven't changed your clothes."

John breathed deeply and stepped back. He'd done that people he interviewed before, looked at a person and saw all the little details that told one everything that they did. But had never been on the other end himself. No-one had ever looked at him and seen so much. He had no idea what to do or what to say. The man was right after all, he was out all last night. He'd gotten in at four and only had time to puke and brush his teeth before going to the station to catch the milk train.

Sleep deprivation and a sore ego tempted him to change the subject quickly, "you call him 'Robert' too, eh?"

Carson narrowed his eyes like he knew what John was doing. "If you don't want to admit that I'm right, that's fine. But spare me the small talk. My room is the third door on the left, go up, wash your face, take one of my larger liveries and get some sleep. Rookwood and Bricker aren't coming until after luncheon so I'll brief you before dinner. The powder is in the first drawer, do not attempt to touch anything else. I will know."

Bates nodded and left quickly. It was only until he was lying on top of Carson's bed, when he realised that he never went to check in with the butler.

* * *

Robert knocked on Cora's door to escort her down to dinner and smiled when she greeted him with a kiss, "do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes, Robert we've been through the 'plan' before, I will be discretely watching Mr Bricker and making sure he doesn't leave any room, while you shall be watching Lord Rookwood and trying to contain your temper."

"You secretly love my tempers, don't deny it."

She kissed him again rubbed his chest slowly, "oh, I won't. Your being possessive definitely has its perks." She winked and walked away from him, out the door.

"You'll be the death of me one of these days, Cora."

"I certainly hope so. What do you think Mr Bricker will be like?"

"I don't entirely know to be honest, but he can't be a gentleman with rapier wit and manners if he's friends with the likes of Paul Rookwood."

"I never knew that was his first name. It's quite fitting, don't you think?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because of the apostle Paul... he hated women to."

Robert sighed and kissed her hand before entering the drawing-room, "it will be alright my dear, don't worry."

Mr Bricker was the first to enter the drawing-room out of the two men. The only indicator that Cora was aware of his presence was the slight pause in her conversation, but Rosamund didn't seem to notice and Robert nodded encouragingly at her. It wasn't long before Rookwood joined the party, followed by Lord Grantham who was the last to arrive.

"Dinner is served your Ladyship."

"Thank you, Evans."

Violet led the way to the dining room and waited until everyone had come in before sitting down. Cora spent the first half of dinner talking to Robert on her left but the second half was much more tedious with Mr Bricker as her company.

"Lady Grantham tells me that you're from America?"

"Yes, I used to live in Cincinnati."

"Oh, New York?"

"Yes, have you been to the city?"

"Once, years ago with my father. He was also a Historian and sometimes took me on his travels with him."

"Does your work take you away from England often?"

"It doesn't have to I can just as easily send a messenger for a price or photograph. But I like to see different cultures and traditions for myself. I like to look at beautiful things and if that happens to take me away from home then so be it. I was actually in South Africa recently, looking at the tribal designs of the Boers."

Cora looked up at him curiously, "isn't there a lot of conflict going on over there?"

He looked at her for the firs time since their conversation began and raised his eyebrow, as if he was surprised that a woman should know of these things. "Well, there's been conflict since the war in 1881 and it's still going on really. But our guys have a firm hand around them so don't worry, it's all just slightly chaotic at the moment which is why I had to leave."

"Did you at least get some nice designs?"

He looked at her with an indulgent smile that one would give a toddler and nodded, "I found what I was looking for."

Cora was saved by Lady Grantham announcing the split and saw Robert winking at her before she left. She hoped he would be able to contain his temper, just in case.

"Cigar, anyone?" Patrick Crawley signaled for Evan's to fetch four cigars and turned to look at the men in front of him, his gaze lingered slightly on Rookwood.

"Not me, thank you, I never got used to the taste." Bricker told Evans as he went to hand out the cigars.

"So, tell me what brings you to Downton." Robert asked Lord Rookwood as innocently as possible and tried not to show amusement as the other man's jaw clenched. Mr Bricker also noticed his friend's agitation and stepped in to answer, "we were in Ripon, meeting an art collector and Paul here mentioned something about your vast collection," he turned to look at Patrick and said, "I would love to see it, by the way. If it's no trouble?"

"Well, I believe Robert took Cora on something like a tour of our paintings because she is very interested in the subject. I'm sure the two of them would be happy to take you after this."

"Ah, yes. I heard you were recently married, Lord Downton. You have my congratulations."

"Thank you." Robert's eyes flicked to Rookwood who was making it blatantly obvious that he was staring at Lord Grantham and Robert wondered what he had said to Bricker about his marriage to Cora. The older man's brown eyes flicked to Robert's and narrowed with a calculating look. Robert blocked out all other conversation and focused on intimidating Rookwood.

"Well, I could always let you finish your drink and ask Lady Downton to bring me now."

"That would be fine, I'm sure Robert would appreciate it, wouldn't you son?"

"Yes, yes, that's fine." Robert was so caught up in trying to gain the upper hand on Rookwood that he didn't even notice Bricker leaving the room.

* * *

"Dinner is in five minutes! Where were you?!" Carson's voice boomed at Bates.

"I'm sorry. I slept in! But I woke up and got down here as fast as I could."

"I had to tell Mr Evans you weren't coming but never mind that now. I'll carry the meat and you bring the sauce."

"What are we looking out for?" Bates followed Carson up the stairs balancing the silver platter in his hands.

"Anything out of the ordinary. Watch Bricker and Rookwood carefully; their hands and eyes. Make sure they don't drop anything and so on."

"Do you know why they're here?"

"Not a clue, Robert is stressing over it as well. There has to be a reason because they wouldn't just turn up for nothing."

"I know they met each other on Saturday but other than that I know nothing."

"Yes, well, we're entering the dining room now, keep your wits about you."

Bates impression of Downton Abbey was that it was a very well-oiled machine, everyone had a job to do and they did it well. It seemed like a nice place to work, no hiding in hedges or pretending to be a homeless person. It was also a lot warmer than his own house. But then again, any house with a smile was warmer than his shack.

John sighed and put the tray down in the servant's hall. Vera had been especially unkind this weekend, his temple still stung from where she threw the glass at him.

Where was he supposed to go when he wasn't wanted at home? The pub. Where was he supposed to go after the pub? Work. After work? Home. Ah, life is a vicious cycle, designed to chew you up and spit you out. John felt like he was watching his life from the outside, seeing himself go through the same never-ending routine. With both Vera and a good drink. Sure, he tried to quit the bottle years ago, but no money in the bank and a bitch at home sends a man to do crazy things.

A noise from behind him sent John into red alert and all thoughts of Vera and drink went out the window. He turned and peered up the stairs. Nothing. The kitchen then.

On his way out he saw a man dressed like a valet, leaning against Mr Evans door with a cigarette and thought quickly. He remembered his conversation with Ben. _You can't smoke that in here. _This man wasn't employed by the house.

John walked by slowly and fished in his pockets for the fag he saved earlier, "damn, got a light on you? I left mine upstairs, in my room." John acted normally but his suspicions were confirmed when the man didn't say anything about John only being here for a day and not having a room.

"Sure, here y'are." He passed a small box of matches to John and stepped away from the door, "say, is the family still havin' dinner?"

"No, they decided not to split and are all in the drawing-room now." John lied, lighting his cigarette before sticking out his hand. "Steven Rath."

"Alex Smith." The other man smiled politely and took back his matches, "I best get on then."

John took a few drags of his cigarette and waited until Mr Smith was out of sight before calmly following him. Smith took the servant's stairs up to the gallery on the second floor and pivoted in time to see John following him. _Shit._ John slipped a small knife from his left sleeve and tensed his muscles in preparation for a fight.

"You're not really a footman here, are you?" Smith asked when he saw the blade.

"No." John switched the knife to his right hand.

"That's fine," Smith smiled dangerously, "I'm not a valet."

* * *

Robert walked into the drawing-room with a smile ready for his wife but didn't see her as he looked around the room.

"Rosamund, where is Cora?"

"Mr Bricker came to get her earlier and they went to look at some art together."

"What?" Rosamund seemed surprised at the amount of venom in his voice and looked at him with a puzzled expression, "didn't you know?"

"No, I didn't. Do you have any idea where they're gone?"

"I think Cora muttered something about the Renaissance era, in the East Wing. You should probably go after them, Robert she was reluctant to go with him but he told her that you said it was okay so she went. If he lied about you knowing then it can't be good."

"Oh, I have every intention of going after them." He made sure his Mama was keeping Rookwood occupied and calmly walked out of the room, nodding to Evans as he passed. But as soon as the door closed, he ran as fast as possible to the stairs that led to the East wing of the castle.

As he approached the third hallway on the second floor, he heard voices and started to calm down, taking deep breaths and slowing his pace.

That is, until he heard a man scream, "fine! I'll tell you!"

_Cora._

Robert rushed down the corridor, his heart thumping wildly against his chest and nearly slipped when he turned sharply around the corner. Visions of Bricker letting Cora think she had the upper hand before producing a weapon or something just as ghastly rushed through his mind. But his legs came to an abrupt halt when all he saw was Bates pushing a knife into a young lad's throat. _Christ he's not still drunk, is he? _

"Bates?"

"Hello, Robert. Come to join the party?"

The young man didn't turn his head to look at the Viscount for fear of pressing the knife further, there was already a single drop of ruby-red blood escaping through his fragile skin. Robert looked at Bates and noticed his left eye was red and swollen. They had a fight.

"What's going on here?"

"Oh, thank God. M'Lord, this man attacked me with a weapon out of no-where! Get him off me!" Alex tried to look as innocent as possible but it wasn't working.

"Nice try, little boy but he's on my side. In fact, he's the one who hired me."

John smiled, "now, I believe you were going to tell me something."

Robert watched with morbid fascination as John removed the knife from the man's throat and used it to trace the line of his cheekbones. The sharp tip was frighteningly close to the young man's eyes. "Fine! Just put the knife away!"

John leaned in closer and continued to stroke his face with the blade, soft like a lover's caress. "Not a chance. Now talk."

"Rookwood approached me about three months ago, asked if I'd like a job. But the job wasn't very legal so I told him I wanted out. But he got my sister, man! What was I supposed to do? He said he'd let her go if I didn't tell anyone. I just needed to do one more job. This job!"

"And what, exactly, did this job entail?"

"He said I had t-"

He was interrupted by a woman shouting, "-what was that about?" A blood curdling scream rang through the upstairs gallery and Robert's face paled. John looked up and let Alex go. "Robert?"

The young Lord's hands started to shake and he looked at John with fear, "Cora's with Bricker in the East wing."

"Shit." He grabbed Robert's arm and pulled him towards the scream, "I don't know where I'm going Robert, you have to snap out of it! Come on, man!"

Neither one noticed when Alex Smith slipped back into the servant's stairwell and escaped further interrogation.

* * *

Carson poured another scotch and carried it to Lord Rookwood. He was still talking to Lady Grantham about Christmas balls and pointedly ignored Patrick Crawley's gaze.

"Here you are m'Lord. Can I get you anything your Ladyship?"

"A brandy please, Charles."

Carson turned back to the drinks to fetch a brandy glass but nearly dropped it when he turned around again, only to see that Rookwood and Robert were not in the room. Carson began to relax but his stomach refused to settle. He had a bad feeling. Thinking back, he couldn't remember seeing Lady Downton or Bricker upon entering the drawing-room but he couldn't be definite.

"Thank you, Charles."

"Of course, m'Lady."

Carson bowed and stepped back. Everyone had a drink. Evans was talking to Lord Grantham about something to do with the kitchen staff. Maybe he could escape without anyone seeing? He stood up straight and walked out of the door with purpose, passing Lord Grantham and Evans on his way. His theory was: if one looks confident, one won't be asked questions. Confidence.

"... I just don't see why they need to be up so late m'Lord. I would prefer to have everything locked and turned off when I retire but I can't when there are maids and a cook still bustling about at midnight."

"Really, Evans, what do you want me to..."

Patrick Crawley's voice trailed off as Carson closed the door and looked around the foyer. No-one saw him, now all he needed was a location on Rookwood. Carson doubted the Lord went upstairs because anyone with a brain wold search upstairs when everyone else was sleeping. No, Carson decided, he must be downstairs. His gut was still rolling and the bad feeling wasn't going away. He needed to find Rookwood. Carson stepped towards the library with a firm nod.

At first he thought there was nobody there but then a shadow moved and Carson moulded his body into the wall. Rookwood was there, leaning over Lord Grantham's desk and reaching into his pocket. Charles watched as he retrieved a black velvet bag from his pocket and was about to place it on the table when his shoulders tensed. Carson's foot had creaked a floorboard.

Carson realised that the Lord knew he was there and surprise went out the window, so he stepped forward purposefully making noise. Rookwood straightened and turned slowly with a stony look on his face. "Well well well, isn't this a surprise, Downton's pet has come to bark. He warned me about you y'know, said the two of ye had a strange relationship, didn't follow the normal rules. He said you wouldn't go down without a fight." Rookwood smiled and stepped forward, "I love a good fight."

Carson never waited for him to finish the sentence before he stepped forward with a jumping front kick, catching Rookwood in the chest and knocking him into the hard oak desk. The velvet bag dropped from his hands, landing next to the table's right leg.

Rookwood snarled and lunged at Carson but the footman was ready. He dodged the right jab and caught Rookwood's jaw with a left hook. "I thought you said you enjoyed a fight! Because, I must be honest here, you aren't putting up a very good one." Carson smiled and Rookwood rubbed his jaw, looking Carson up and down.

"I underestimated you. It won't happen again."

In all of Carson's life, whether it was backstage learning Tae-kwon-do from Master Yung Hui or being a footman, never in all his life, had he seen a man move as fast as Rookwood did in the next five seconds.

The Lord side-stepped to his right and turning kicked Carson in the side of his head. The footman immediately saw stars and crumpled to the floor. Before he had time to feel any pain, Rookwood was sitting on his chest. Charles was seeing black spots in his eyes and it was hard to focus on the older man's face but he recognised the weight on his chest and the hand around his throat as another person. It took longer for him to realise that Rookwood was talking to him.

"See, you're not the only one with fancy kicks."

_Kicks?_ Carson's brain couldn't catch up but all he knew was that he needed to get the weight off his chest. He struggled but it wouldn't budge, if anything it pushed harder. He felt large hands clamp around his throat, strong thumbs pressing into his windpipe and making him gag. It dawned on him that he was going to die and no-one was going to help. How could he scream for help when he had no air?

* * *

"Are you sure Robert didn't say to wait for him?"

"Quite sure. He said to have fun. Lord Grantham told me you have an interest in art, is this true?"

"Yes, I like paintings. This staircase leads to the East of the castle, there's a lot of Renaissance era works there."

"Do you prefer Da Vinci or Michelangelo?"

"Is that a trick question? One can't simply choose between the greatest minds in history or do something so petty as to 'pick a favourite'."

"I'm impressed, brains and beauty, Lord Downton really did get the whole package."

Cora bit her tongue in an effort not to curse at the man before her and quickened her pace. She could see the door that Robert showed her on their first day of marriage now.

"Do you feel the same?"

"What?" Cora's annoyance was slipping through but Bricker didn't seem to get the hint. Bricker's steps slowed down and eventually stopped. She turned to look at him and couldn't mask the irritation on her face but it only seemed to amuse him.

"I said, 'do you feel the same?' As in, do you think that Lord Downton is the whole package? In other words, did you get what you paid for?"

Cora reached up and slapped Bricker across the face, "how dare you!" She shouted. "You have absolutely no right to question me or my marri- Ah!" She couldn't stop a scream from escaping her when he grasped her by the shoulders and threw her against the wall.

"Mr Bricker let me go!" She shouted and struggled in his grasp but he remained silent. Fear ran through her veins like ice as he looked in her eyes and held her firm against the wall. The silence reigned on but Cora was sure that he could hear her heart beating in her chest.

His knee moved in between her legs and she was struck by the startling realisation that she was alone. No-one was coming to help her and this man was about to do something that no-one but Robert had ever done before. Tears began to pool in her eyes as hot lust poured out of his. But Levinson's don't cry. If Cora wanted to get out of this situation then she'd have to help herself. She wasn't strong enough to push him, he had a hold of her hands and her legs were trapped in between his own. Words whispered by her father when she was only a little girl came back to her slowly.

_Don't ever forget, Pumpkin; you are as strong as any other man but you have to remember to use your head._

Cora took a deep breath and pulled her head back as far as it would go. She closed her eyes and pretended push him away by grabbing his shoulders. The last thing she saw was his toothy grin before she slammed her forehead into his nose, letting out a scream as she did so.

"What the fu-" she pushed him away from her body trying to ignore the pain that flared throughout her head.

"Stay away from me!" She never waited for him to reply and sped towards the opposite end of the corridor. Tears threatened to spill over but she wouldn't let them, she wasn't safe yet. She heard loud footsteps and shouting thundering towards her back but she ploughed on, not even listening to her attacker's words. Strong arms suddenly grabbed her from behind and she lashed her feet out, "let me go!"

"Cora! Ssh, it's me!"

"Robert?" She spun around in his arms to face him and smiled in relief, "Robert!" Her arms latched themselves around his neck and he lifted her into the air, spinning her around. The pain in her head made itself known and she groaned into his shoulder, "can you put me down now?"

Her husband let her feet fall to the floor but didn't let her go completely. He cradled her face within his palms and gazed into her eyes. "Where is he, Cora?"

The memories of Bricker and his silent gaze rushed to the forefront of her mind, "he's down there by the Renaissance room."

"Don't worry Robert, I got this. Get her safe and check her head then go get Carson he'll want to know everything." Bates ran down the hall where Cora had pointed his steps light for such a big man.

"Is your head alright? Did he hit you?"

"No, I hit him. He had my hands you see so I hit my head but it hurts."

Robert smiled and kissed the mark that was already bruising in the middle of her forehead. "Oh, darling. I'm so proud of you, how hard did you hit him? Come on let's get you lying down."

She stepped forehead tentatively but the world span and her vision blurred. She was suddenly off the ground and cradled within her husband's chest as he carried her to their bedroom. Cora's mind was pulling her further into a black lake of unconsciousness. Where the waters soothed and blocked out images of silent men with wild eyes. She gladly waded in and immersed herself in it's depths, vaguely registering Robert's whispered apologies and hushed sentiments.

"Oh, Cora. Please forgive me. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I didn't help you."

Robert knew Downton intimately and maneuvered down the halls with his face buried in his wife's jasmine scented hair. He opened the door to their bedroom and placed her sleeping form on the bed. The thought of her being scared and alone with scum like Bricker evoked strange and powerful emotions in him. Tears fell onto her porcelain face as he leaned over her and repeated the words; 'I'm sorry,' over and over. The young Lord let his feelings pour out freely from his eyes. After all, he wasn't a Levinson.

* * *

He needed to do something. _Anything__! _But what could he do? _Kick!_

Carson clasped his own hands over Rookwood's, trapping him to his chest and brought his right knee up, forcefully meeting the middle vertebrae on Rookwood's spine. He ignored the pounding in his head and focused on putting as much power as possible into kneeing the Lord's back.

"Agh!"

The other man screamed but Carson wouldn't let go, he kept driving his boulder-like knee into Rookwood's back. On the third time, the grip around his throat was relaxing and Carson stretched his leg further to hook his right heel around Rookwood's neck, bringing him crashing to the floor. Carson sat up and saw the Lord's face between his ankles, reflexes told the footman to stop thinking and just do. So he did. He punched Rookwood in the nose twice before scrambling back to get up. He leaned on the edge of the plush red sofa gasping for air and trying desperately to un-cloud his vision. That was when Robert ran in.

"Carson! Are you alright?"

Carson tried to nod but the movement made Fireworks explode in front of his eyes. The scene before him was slowly slipping away and black was clouding his vision like an oncoming storm. He knew he was going to faint and grasped the couch harder, willing himself to take slow deep breaths in before exhaling. A loud moan coming from the direction of Rookwood distracted Robert but the footman stayed where he was, trying desperately not to pass out.

Rookwood sat up and held his broken nose in a handkerchief, it was then when he noticed Lord Downton glaring at him with red rimmed eyes. The servant was struggling against one of the sofas and Paul had to restrain a smile at the sight.

"What happened?" Downton spoke through gritted teeth clearly upset that his night was ruined. Rookwood briefly wondered what Bricker did or was doing to _Lady Downton_ at this minute. Maybe that's why poor little Robert's eyes were red. This time he couldn't contain his grin.

"You think this is funny!?" Robert bent at the waist and dragged Rookwood up from the floor with his hands on the other man's collar. "You think that you can come into my house for God knows what reason and mess with MY family!? Think again you prick." Robert's fist struck home against Rookwood's jaw and he went slack, falling out of Robert's arms in a heap on the floor next to the desk.

"Robert." Carson's voice was creaky and breathless, that of an elderly person rather than the fighting machine Robert knew so well. The young Lord was next to his friend in four long strides.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. But, what about Lady Downton?"

Robert's smile was grim, "she'll live."

"Can the same be said for Mr Bricker?"

"I don't know, John went after him. I came to find you."

"Rookwood?"

"Don't worry he's-" Robert stopped talking when he noticed the empty space next to the desk. Rookwood was gone.

"Son of a bitch! He's not here, I thought I knocked him out."

"Obviously not."

"Yes, I can see that, thank you," he walked over to the decanter by the wall and poured out a glass of water, "here, drink this."

Carson took a long drink before speaking again, the red marks around his throat were becoming more pronounced and Robert had to suppress another flame of anger.

"Did you find his pouch?"

"What?"

"He was by the desk holding a small velvet pouch when I walked in, it fell by the right leg of the desk. Did you get it?"

Robert bent down and looked around the desk. "It's not there, he must have taken it with him. Are you sure you're alright?"

"No, I'm not alright. Rookwood kept saying, "he told me" I think he has a man spying on you. He knew who I was and that we were close."

"Spying on me? You mean a P.I, like John?"

"Maybe, I don't know. How did you know I was in here?"

"I didn't. Cora fell asleep so I came down to get a drink before looking for you. My father might come in any minute actually, you should go downstairs and get some rest. I'll brief you tomorrow."

Carson nodded once slowly before leaving the library, passing John on his way out. "Robert! They got away, that Smith had a car waiting for all of them, we didn't stand a chance. Is Carson okay?"

"No, but he will be." Robert walked away from Bates and climbed the stairs to his dressing room. Sleep would be hard to come by tonight.

* * *

"Step on it, Smith."

"I don't know how to work these things, there's too much buttons."

"Damn foreign contraptions. Why did I let you persuade me to buy a car?" Rookwood shouted at Bricker as he reached forward and helped Alex pull the gear stick. it slid back like butter under Rookwood's brute strength.

"I thought that German was a very nice man. What was his name again? Karl Benz, Bons?" Simon's head was tilted back against the seat and he was holding his nose.

"Who cares what his damn name was? Did you get it?"

"No, it wasn't just Downton and that servant. There was another man there."

"Hmm, Alex I thought you were supposed to be keeping Carson busy while I had Downton to deal with?"

"I did Sir, but he pulled a knife on me and said he wasn't a footman. He's crazy but I did my best and didn't give anything away!"

"You idiot!" Rookwood back-handed Alex across the face from behind his seat. "That wasn't Carson. Carson was downstairs kicking me in the chest."

"Oh, so that's why you look like you're after a pub fight. I was wondering about that."

"Shut up Simon, a girl broke your nose."

Bricker sighed and fished in his pocket for a handkerchief. "She never called me ugly."

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing. Did you plant it?"

Paul snorted and took out a black velvet bag, "only one. But at least I did my job. How did you get on Alex?"

"He said to tell you that you need to go the Rhode's ball this weekend. He said it's vital and he'll know if you miss it." The young boy's voice shook and his hands gripped the wheel with white knuckles.

"Who?"

"No-one you need to bother yourself with, Simon."

Bricker's eyes narrowed and he looked at Rookwood. "Who are the Rhode's?"

Paul smiled widely and rubbed his hands together, "our new business partners."


End file.
